


Broken

by silvereye5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Case, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereye5/pseuds/silvereye5
Summary: It's been a year since Severus left Harry. Harry still isn't over it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not give permission for this work to be published, shared, quoted, or read in any other forum.

"He looks tired."

“Yeah.” Ron squinted and leaned toward the two-way mirror. “Well, they’ve had him in there for near on five hours now.” 

On the other side of the glass, Severus sat alone, his back pin straight and his expression shuttered. His wrists were shackled to the metal interrogation table. Harry swallowed against the rising burn of nausea. He blinked, and blinked again. No matter how badly he wanted it to, the image wouldn’t leave.

Cooper, a useless relic from patrol, pushed away from the wall and came to stand next to Ron and Harry. “Bet the guys up top are hacked off,” he said and tugged his red robes into place. “After all the work the Ministry went through to clear the bastard’s name,” Cooper gestured at Severus, “and now here he sits. Not that surprising though. Old dogs and new tricks, etcetera.”

Harry turned, both annoyed and grateful for Ron’s position between them. “What the fuck are you doing here, Cooper? This isn’t your case, and this isn’t some bloody show.”

“Sod off, Potter.” Cooper moved to face Harry. “I’m the one that booked him. I’ve every right to watch.”

Ron put a firm hand on Harry’s forearm, keeping him from advancing. Harry shook his head, his eyes shifting between Cooper and Ron. “No one but this idiot can honestly think Severus did this.”

Cooper snorted. “Course they do.”

Ron grimaced and let go of Harry’s arm. “I don’t, you know, but…” Ron gave a half-hearted shrug.

He couldn’t believe it. No bloody way. Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. After everything, everything...He took a breath in through his nostrils, calming himself, and asked Ron, “Have you heard who they’re handing Severus’ questioning off to?” 

Ron scratched at his temple. “Merrick and Reynolds were in there before. But I heard, officially, they’re thinking Oakley.”

Harry sighed. He’d worked for _months_ on this case. They’d got it wrong here. There was simply no way Severus’d done this, or any of the other murders. There was no motive, no cause. And this was Severus. “No.” Harry shook his head. “Severus didn’t kill anyone.”

Cooper scoffed, said something about coffee that Harry ignored, and left the room.

Harry shifted his attention back through the mirrored glass and bit into his bottom lip, hard. Severus sat so bloody still, just the minute rise and fall of his breathing. “Can I at least take him a drink or something?”

“You aren’t allowed in there, mate,” Ron said. “You know that.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Harry ran fingers through his hair and tugged. “Does he have to be chained to the bloody table like that?”

Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed.

Harry and Ron watched as Severus bent his head over the table, the links just long enough to allow him to scratch his nose. The interrogation room door opened and Severus shot back to his rigid upright position. Oakley and Merrick entered. Ron’s hand dropped and they both stepped closer to the two-way glass, close enough that each breath Harry took left a brief cloud of condensation.

“Professor Snape,” Oakley began.

Severus drummed his fingers, once, against the table, rattling the chains. “I am no longer a professor.”

Oakley smiled thinly. “My apologies, sir.” He took the chair opposite. “Old habits. We have some questions for you.”

“I have already answered a great many of your questions.”

“Well, you know how it is. We’re quite relentless in our pursuit of justice.” Oakley gave a smug grin and Harry wanted to punch it off his smug face. “They’ve had to reassign your case rather quickly. On account of you and Potter’s...history.” Oakley gestured between himself and where Merrick leaned against the wall in a far corner. “We were the lucky winners.”

The chains clinked as Snape settled back in his chair, his face impassive.

“Now then.” Oakley sent a parchment and quill to hover close by, then laid his entwined hands on the table. “Mr. Snape, you were found at the scene of a murder. We have-”

“Circumstantial nothing is what you have.” Severus narrowed his eyes. “I have already answered these questions.”

“You answered them for Auror Reynolds.”

“Then borrow the man’s notes.” The volume of Severus’ voice rose.

Oakley smiled, cool and calm, and if it frustrated Harry, it must be infuriating Severus. “Surely, you know how this works, Snape. As a Death Eater-”

Harry slammed his fists against the glass. Severus, Merrick, and Oakley’s heads all snapped in the direction of the sound. The thud reverberated around their silence. Severus’ jaw clenched.

“Mate,” Ron murmured and pulled Harry back from the glass.

“ _Former_ Death Eater,” Oakley amended. “It appears the change in Auror here was quite appropriate.”

Merrick walked over to the window, shot a baleful look vaguely in Harry’s direction, and turned to Severus. “We can be done with this quicker if you just answer the questions, Snape.”

Severus drummed his slim fingers against the table again. He shifted in his chair, angling himself away from Harry. His hair swung forward and further hid his expression.

Oakley watched Merrick retreat back into his corner and began again. “As I was saying, we have evidence of your magical signature at the location of a murder. We have you there with the body. So,” Oakley shrugged, “what were you doing at Mr. May’s flat?”

Severus’ shoulders lifted as he sighed. He paused, lowered his chin briefly, and answered. “Picking up an order.”

Oakley glanced at a bit of parchment before him. “No prepared packages were found at the scene.”

“How unfortunate for me.”

Oakley sucked on his teeth. “How long had you known Mr. May?”

“I taught him in the eighties.”

“How long had he been supplying ingredients to you?”

“Since he retired as an Auror. Possibly 3 years.”

“Was Mr. May alive when you arrived?”

“No.” 

“Then how’d you get inside?”

“The door was ajar.” 

“What did you see when you entered?”

“May was on the ground. Still.” Severus shifted in his chair. “I pulled my wand to defend myself.” Saverus paused. “And then the Aurors arrived.”

“And then the Aurors arrived.” 

“Yes.” Severus straightened. “It was all very dull.”

“You don’t seem very remorseful.”

Severus again drummed his fingers, just once. Oakley and Severus stared at each other. Neither made a sound, not even the flutter of an eyelid blinking.

Merrick cleared his throat and stepped up to the table. He leaned against it, palms flat and fingers spread. “The Aurors who responded didn’t see you enter the building before them. You had enough time to do more than simply draw you wand, Snape.”

Severus shifted again and he glanced in Harry’s direction. “I did nothing more than draw my wand.”

Harry shook his head. Severus was uneasy about something. It could be for any number of reasons. But Harry was sure of one thing. “Severus didn’t do this.”

Ron nodded. “Unlucky, though. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Yeah.” Harry crossed his arms and continued to watch. They didn’t have any proof. Priori Incantatem couldn’t have revealed anything or Severus would be halfway to Azkaban already. No witnesses. No motive. Simply unfortunate timing.

Severus would be out of here before supper.

 

******

  

The murders had started eight months prior.

The victims had all been people to do with old cases involving Death Eaters. The first victim had been a prosecutor, named Hudson, who’d overseen the bulk of the post-War cases, including Severus’. He’d been a bit of a prick, and when he wound up dead, no one had been overly shocked.

They gave the case to Harry. It’d been his first case as a Lead Auror. Nobody had foreseen six more murders being linked to Hudson’s case. Robards itched to take the case away, Harry knew, to give it to someone with more experience, to someone not so invested.

Harry wasn’t about to let that happen, wasn’t going to let Oakley take over what was his. Harry deserved his position; he’d earned it.

Harry paced from one side of Robards’ office to the other, listening to Merrick and Robards go over Oakley’s interrogation, and bit his tongue.

“Snape could have been more cooperative,” Merrick said.

“I don’t blame him.” Harry couldn’t stop himself, years of defending Severus had become an ingrained habit. “Oakley’s lack of impartiality was blatantly obvious.”

“Potter,” Robards said, groaned more like. “You could not have conducted the interrogation.”

He knew that. A completely impartial auror would have been impossible. The MLE would be hard pressed to find someone on staff without some opinion about Severus, but Oakley hadn’t even tried.

“Oakley did a shit job.”

Merrick leaned forward in his chair. “He only had the one slip up.”

Harry stopped his pacing and slashed at the air with his hand. “He shouldn’t have had any slip ups.”

Robards pointed at Harry. “I agree with Potter on that account.”

Harry stepped towards Robards desk. “Severus had no reason to kill May. We wasted a whole day ques-”

“We didn’t.” Merrick’s eagerness had him practically falling out of his chair. “Snape is the first lead we’ve had in these cases. Possibly, Snape would have been a suspect far earlier than this.” His voice rose to silence any objection Harry had, and have them he did. “It could be that Potter has let his previous relationship with the man influence his interpretation of prior evidence.”

Harry’s fingers curled into fists, but he made sure his face stayed impassive.

Robards asked, “Do you have proof of this accusation?”

Merrick sat back and shook his head.

Bloody unfair as it was, no matter what he did, Harry’s personal and professional lives could not be separated. So little in his life remained private. _The Daily Prophet_  somehow always knew all and always told all. And Harry’s relationship with Severus was a damn goldmine for them.

The Golden Savior and the Repentant Death Eater.

As a couple, they had sold a lot of papers. Their break up nearly a year ago had sold significantly more.

Misery and misfortune. Easy entertainment for the masses.

In the wake of the breakup, Severus had disappeared completely. Just dropped off the face of the Earth. Harry didn’t have the same privilege, being an auror, being Harry Potter. He’d ended up taking the brunt of the public interest. Photographers and reporters rushed him coming into work, attending charity events, buying coffee. The _Daily Prophet_ happily documented his grief and desolation. Every frown, bloodshot eye, and lonely outing analyzed and lamented.

Merrick and Robards continued talking, but Harry was done. He interrupted to ask, “Can I have my case back now?”

Robards’ nostrils flared. “If anything, look at me, Potter,” he stared hard at Harry, “ _anything_ , comes up that hints in the slightest at Snape’s involvement in these murders, you bring it directly to me.” He pressed his lips together. “And I want Merrick following up on you. Let him see you and Weasley’s files.”

Harry’s nails dug into the flesh of his palms, but he nodded once and left the office.  

 

******

Harry sat at his breakfast table and gnawed on the edge of his thumb. The _Daily Prophet_ was spread out before him. They had found out about Severus’ arrest. Of course, they had. But they hadn’t just left it at the facts; Severus being found at the scene of the crime, being brought in for a simple questioning. No, they had to drag Harry and Severus’ relationship into it, romanticizing a go-nowhere story by inventing fantasies about Harry being ‘devastated by Snape’s return to the Dark Arts’.

Harry always played the weepy damsel to Severus’ dark knight in _Prophet_ articles. When they’d been together, Harry and Severus had always shared a dismissive eye roll over it.

Harry picked up his coffee mug. A picture of Severus leaving the Ministry, annoyed and pinched, obviously post-questioning, christened the front page. Severus was thinner than he’d been when they were dating. His hair was lank and his eyes were shuttered, the skin beneath them heavy from lack of sleep. Harry’s gut twisted at the image of a man clearly not tending to himself.

Harry shook his head, a feeble attempt to clear the swirl of emotions. Severus had ended things. Severus didn’t need Harry to play minder. Severus didn’t want Harry to play minder.

He slammed his mug down on top of Severus’ face. He dug his fingers deep into the roots of his hair and pulled a breath into his lungs, continued to hold it until they burned, and blew it out. He had to review the transcripts of Severus’ multiple questionings. There would be holes. Oakley had been nowhere near the right track when he’d interrogated Severus. Meaning Harry would have to hunt Severus down and force more questions on him, now that it was Harry’s case again. Harry pulled his hands through his hair, tugging violently on the ends before rising and departing for the Ministry.

 

******

“It’s just a few questions, Severus. I don’t even need to come inside.” He didn’t want to go inside. Harry tapped his Muggle pen repeatedly against his thigh.

Severus stared at a spot behind Harry’s head. The man had started doing that, not meeting Harry’s eyes, looking past him, in the weeks before he’d ended things with Harry. Even though the other shoe had dropped on that one, the action still sent a frisson of unease through Harry. The only upside now was it gave Harry a chance to stare at Severus without the dark eyes glaring back. Severus looked even more wane close up.

“As if I’d prefer to defend myself against murder charges out here for all to see.” Severus flung a hand out, gesturing to the corridor leading to his flat. A girl in a beanie was fitting her key into the lock a few doors down. The hallway that held Severus’ flat was grey and mundane and boring, Muggle. Harry had never been here, of course. This was the _replacement_ flat. The one Severus had acquired slyly while they were still together.

Severus continued, “I was mauled by aurors at the scene. Harassed by them at the station. Gawked at,” Severus’ eyes slid back to Harry’s, “in the interrogation room. What more could I possibly give you, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. He was an idiot; he should have sent Ron, or at least asked Ron to accompany him. “Oakley’s rubbish. You know that. You know that he didn’t cover everything. He didn’t even-” Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. “Look, Severus, I know you didn’t do it.”

Severus crossed his arms. “I would hope so.”

“Right. Look,” Harry tilted his head and met Severus’ eyes, “I could make you.” Severus raised a solitary brow. Harry lifted one to match. “Let’s just do this the easy way, yeah?”

Severus closed his eyes and stepped aside. Harry dithered at the threshold, not wanting to go inside Severus’ home. The one sure to be filled with all the familiar things that used to adorn _their_ home. The one Harry still lived in. _Alone._

With a large gulp of air, and a great deal of reluctance, Harry stepped inside. It smelled like Severus, like ink and sandalwood. A wave of familiarity and nascent nostalgia began to wash over him before it quickly halted.

“You got a new couch.” Harry pointed at the interloper.

“Yes.” Severus closed the door behind them.

“But you took ours with you.”

“I didn’t know that was relevant to a murder investigation.”

Harry pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and scrutinized the faux leather fiend for another quick second. He pulled his notepad from his robe pocket. “Why didn’t the responding aurors see you go inside?”

“I have no idea.”

Harry turned around to face Severus. “How long had you been there when they arrived?”

“I answered this.”

“How long specifically had you really been there?”

Severus sighed. “Less than ten minutes.”

“That’s a long time.”

Severus responded, slowly, “It had been a while since I last saw a dead body.” He swallowed. “I may have been shocked, for a moment. Perhaps, long than I realized.”

Harry scribbled into his notepad.

Severus clicked his tongue. “Must you really commit that to paper?”

Harry’s hand stilled for a moment, but he soon continued writing without comment.

He didn’t have many questions. Nothing particularly revelatory. As he continued on, Harry’s faith in Severus’ innocence remained firm and whole. The lack of motive, and the fact that he _knew_ Severus, clinched it for him. He went through the motions any way, needing to keep it on the up and up for both of their sakes.

As he wrapped up, Harry’s gaze swept around the room, both wanting and not wanting to take in the details of Severus’ life. The new couch, the telly, and the cluttered coffee table. The pristine kitchen. A handful of closed doors. Light streamed in through a large window with a view of city park across the street. And under the window there was a little table with two coffee cups across from each other.

_Two._

His breath knocked out of his lungs. His heart sunk to his stomach and he swallowed and searched the flat for other signs of cohabitation.

“H-Have…” Harry cleared his throat, willing control back into his voice. “Have you received any threats, or noticed anyone following you?”

Severus tilted his head to the side, eyes dashing over Harry. “No.”

Harry clicked his pen before storing it and his spiral notebook in a pocket on his robes.

Harry pulled air into his lungs, as naturally as he could manage. In and out, in and out. “Your place is nice,” he said. “It’s bright. It’s nice.”

“Yes.” Severus looked at that spot beyond Harry’s head again.

Harry let the silence stretch out and his eyes flicked around the room one last time. “I’m going to go then.”

Severus moved to open the door with such alacrity that Harry laughed, just one sharp, slightly maniacal bark of amusement. “You don’t have to be so fucking eager, Severus.”

Severus paused at the door and turned. Harry hadn’t moved any closer to the exit.

“Is someone else here?” Harry asked, unable to keep all of the resentment out of his tone. Not really wanting to either.

Severus’ brow contracted as he glanced around the flat, obviously looking for what had given him away. He answered, drawing the vowel out a second more, “No.”

Harry walked over to the large window. He ran his fingers down the wooden surface of the table, lingering just between the two coffee cups, the wrenchingly familiar coffee cups. “It’s a nice view, Severus.”

Severus opened the door and said nothing.

Harry stepped up close to Severus as he was leaving, taking in the pallor of his skin, the bruises beneath his eyes. The heat coming off of the man’s body made Harry’s heart pound painfully against his ribs. He wanted to press closer, feel the heat bleed through his robes and into his skin. He endured it and resisted. Looking Severus right the eyes, he said, “You look like shit.”

After Severus offered nothing back, Harry left.


	2. Chapter 2

“I think Severus is seeing someone.”

Hermione’s face scrunched up. She flicked her wand and the clothes in the baskets around her rose into the air and began folding themselves. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione sat back and monitored the laundry’s progress. “It was bound to happen eventually though.”

“I guess.” Harry laid his head against the back of the chair.

“Maybe it’s ti-”

“No.”

“I know thi-”

“Not interested.”

Hermione sighed. “It might make Severus jealous.”

Harry lifted his head and glared half-heartedly at his friend. “That is childish, Hermione Weasley.”

After a sharp tongue click, Hermione continued, “You  _ should  _ try again. With someone new.”

“I’m not over him.” Harry ducked his head. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You never will be over him if you keep wallowing.”

“It’s not that easy. I was happy. He was happy. I thought, but I don’t know.” Harry gestured vaguely with his hands then dropped them back into his lap. “I thought we were happy. I don’t understand and that’s the problem.” Harry leaned forward, elbows meeting knees. “How can I start something new if I don’t understand how I messed up the last time?”

Hermione rose, the baskets of now folded clothes floating behind her. Harry stood, dragging his feet as he followed. 

“At least with Ginny,” Harry continued, “I knew what went wrong.”

It had been Harry’s temper. And Ginny’s, he supposed. She tried, but she just did not know how to handle Harry’s moods. She didn’t let them be. She would niggle at them. Ginny fancied she could fix Harry, like a faulty clock, if she could just reassemble the pieces he would tick better. She kept at it until Harry would burst. They would fight, sat monstrous things, and then compensate with periods of too much affection. Their relationship was a cycle of anger, guilt, and discomfort.

And there was the jealousy, or at least that’s how Harry interpreted Ginny’s constant mentioning of Severus. Ginny blamed everything on Severus. She faulted Severus for every bad mood Harry had. When Harry raged against anything, Ginny blamed his anger on Severus’ influence. She was blind to the fact that Harry had always been temperamental. Or, at least, she wasn’t willing to put up with it any longer. 

His relationship with Ginny came to a blazing end when, during a row, Ginny suggested Harry would rather be shagging Snape than her. Harry shouted back that maybe he did. It certainly sounded much simpler than shagging Ginny.

And it was. The path from friend to partner was rough, but worth it. Severus understood Harry’s ups and down because he lived them himself. Severus was possessive, but in a way that made Harry feel wanted, not smothered. He and Severus complimented each other brilliantly. Anyone who had been dubious to the pairing, and there had been many, were converted quickly after seeing them together.

With the baskets deposited in the bedroom, they’d moved to the kitchen. Hermione pulled out a cutting board and Harry sunk into a seat at the table.

“Why didn’t you send Ron to question him?” Hermione asked.

“I thought he would be more receptive if it was just me.” Harry picked at his thumbnail. “And I like to do my own questioning.”

Hermione precisely measured ingredients into a bowl, like she was preparing a potion instead of food. Harry tried not to grimace. Hermione’s cooking had never become much better than the rubbish she’d tossed together during their year ‘camping’.

“Who do you suppose it is?” Harry asked.

“Who do I suppose who is?” Hermione replied distractedly, leveling off a teaspoon of pepper.

“Severus’ new...whatever.” Severus wasn’t strictly gay; his partner could be anyone.

“Oh. I have no idea. Severus and I don’t exactly move in the same social circles, Harry.”

“Yeah.” Harry  _ was _ Severus’ social circle, for the most part. When Severus hadn’t been with Harry, he’d been with his books and his potions. Sometimes he mixed in with McGonagall and his other old colleagues. Once in a blue moon, he’d visit with the Malfoys. “Probably some Potions bloke.”

“Seems likely. Will you stay for dinner?”

Harry shook his head as nonchalantly as he could.

 

******

This might be one of Harry’s worst thought out plans. Ignorance is bliss, curiosity killed the cat and the like ran through his head as he huddled into the shadows of the alleyway across from Severus’ block of flats.

Did he really want to see Severus’ new partner?

Yes. Even if it hurt, he needed to see for himself that Severus had moved on.

But it was not easy to catch the man...men...couple.

Severus brewed privately, on his own schedule. He had a contract with St Mungo’s to brew Wolfsbane, but as the potion needed to be fresh, that brewing was always a once-a-month, all day endeavor. There was nothing that had Severus out and about with any kind of observable schedule. Harry hoped to simply luck into a sighting. He was betting on the odds that, with the added year, Severus more paranoid, not less. Thus there was no floo or apparation access to his new flat. Severus would have to walk to the flat with his new partner. 

Severus would kill him if he knew Harry was, essentially, stalking him.

After an embarrassing amount time spent hiding and watching, and with an uttered “pathetic”, Harry gave up and went home.

******

In the three years Harry had spent in Auror Training, no one had ever bothered mentioning the endless paperwork. He’d heard rumblings from veteran aurors that this a new post-Voldemort initiative. Kingsley and Robards had revolutionized much of the MLE, order and consistency and fair documentation being the new status quo. Harry dutifully carried out the new expectation, scribbling out the details he’d jotted down in his spiral notebook onto an official interrogation form.

Ron sank onto the corner of Harry’s cluttered desk without knocking a single thing over, a well-honed skill. “It’s lunch, mate.”

“Yeah, I’m almost done.”

“I would have gone with you to Snape’s.”

Harry smiled. “I know. I was fine though.”

“Hermione said Snape had some other bloke there.”

“That is not what I said.” Harry pressed his lips together. “I don’t actually know. He was being shifty about it.”

“He’s always shifty.”

Harry shook his head and licked his lips. “There were two coffee cups on his table.”

“That all?” Ron scoffed. “Maybe it was a client.”

“His clients all owl him.”

“Alright. Maybe it was a fit, young girl.”

Harry scowled.

Ron shrugged. “You didn’t like my optimism, so I offered up a bit of pessimism.”

Harry went back to his paperwork, not amused. Ron pulled a chocolate frog out from his pocket. Harry hated thinking of Severus with a woman. His imagination always conjured up his mother. He sent another perturbed look his friend’s way.

“You have chocolate on your face.”

“I’d rather have chip grease on my face,” Ron said, wiping at the smudge, but managing to miss it entirely. “How much longer are you going to be?”

With a sigh, Harry added the paperwork to the pile on his desk. “Let’s just go.”

Ron popped up to his feet. “Excellent.”

Twenty minutes later, they were nestled into a table at a pub, Ron with a cheese toasty and some chips and Harry with a coffee.

“I’m gonna miss the staff meeting tonight. I gotta stay with Rose,” Ron said between bites. “Hermione’s picking up her new robes for the Memorial Ball. Cover for me?” 

Harry nodded, turning his cup in circles in an old puddle of condensation. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” 

The Ministry held a charity ball every May at Hogwarts. It kept the war veteran accounts funded. Harry went with Severus every year.

“Aren’t you eating?” Ron asked.

“Not hungry.”

Ron put his sandwich down slowly, eyes on Harry. “Harry, mate.” Ron scratched at his hairline. “I think it’s time, you know, to move on. It’s been a year.”

“Closer to 10 months.”

“Yeah. And I know you were really...attached to Snape. By the end, I liked him well enough too.” Ron’s nose wrinkled. “Well-”

“You don’t have to do this, Ron. Really. It was just the first time I’d seen him. Seen his new place,” Harry said. “It’s knocked me off kilter is all. I’m fine.”

Relief cleared Ron’s features. “Okay. If you want to talk about it though, I’m, you know, here for you.” He picked his sandwich back up. “You gonna take someone else to the Memorial thing then?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You should.” Ron bit into his sandwich, continuing to talk around the mouthful. “Change is good. Moving on to something new. Very beneficial.”

Harry’s eyes glazed over.

******

Hogwarts had been rebuilt with magic. Magic was amazing, capable of tremendous things, but it couldn’t work miracles. The rebuilding took months. It took over a hundred people, working many hours, working through their grief and disbelief, to get Hogwarts to rights.

Seven years out and the castle looked as it did before the second war. Dumbledore’s marble tomb was still on the grounds. At the six year anniversary, a gilded, glowing tributary plinth overlooking the Black Lake had joined it. Severus had stood with Harry that year, last year, at its unveiling. He had remained beside him into the early hours of the morning when Harry couldn’t bring himself to leave the site.

This year, Harry stood alone. Various attendees were around him, but none approached. Harry remembered those he lost. He remembered everything he’d lost. Everything so many had lost. Not just loved one, but their innocence and their sense of safety. Harry took a last look, drew in a breath filled with the familiar scent of Hogwarts in the spring, new grass and clean air, and he turned towards the castle. 

He was welcomed at the door by McGonagall, as he was every year. The Headmistress always acted as host at the charity event, despite it being thrown by the Ministry. They’d chosen red and blue and bronze, like a sunburned Ravenclaw, as the color scheme this year.

The awkwardness of attending events alone was one of the harder post-relationship adjustments. His friends had all paired off now. Married or engaged, now with children sprinkled in here and there. Everyone had someone. Harry was the odd man out, unattached and gloomy.

While looking around the Great Hall for a group made up mostly of redheads, Harry spotted him.

Severus. Severus hated these things. Harry had been sure Severus had only come to them because Harry had made him, but there he was, independent of Harry’s influence. He wore midnight blue robes, a subtle difference from the black. Harry loved when he wore blue, mostly because the people they encountered always had a moment of shock at Professor Snape wearing color. Harry remembered these particular robes. Remember how soft they felt under his fingers, how they held in the scent of the cologne Severus used along with the smell of their home.

Harry’s breath hitched and he looked away, resuming his search for Ron or Hermione or Neville, or anyone familiar that didn’t make his chest hurt and his throat close. But his masochistic eyes couldn’t stay away for long.

Severus was in profile to Harry. He lazily held a drink, resting it on the arm crossed in front of his chest. He spoke with two men Harry may have remembered as working at St Mungo’s with Severus.

“You look a bit crazy just staring, Harry.”

Harry clenched his jaw and turned in the direction of Ginny’s voice. “Do I?”

Ginny had a smug smile on her face; it managed to somehow only enhance her beauty. Lucky Ginny, she always looked beautiful. Especially polished as was tonight. A long gold dress hugged all the right curves and flowed elegantly away from the wrong ones. Her red hair was longer than he recalled ever seeing it, brushing at the smooth skin that was revealed on her back, arms, and shoulders.

“And desperate. It’s practically rolling off you.” Ginny tilted her head to the left and pouted her lips out. “Poor Harry.”

“Very mature, Gin.” Harry moved away in the direction of the bar. Ginny followed him, her heels clacking along at his side. He added, “You look nice, by the way. Where’s your husband?”

“Over there with everyone else.” Harry looked in the direction she waved her hand, finally spotting a gaggle of Weasleys, their significant others, and various members of the old DA. They were all crowded around a grouping of round tables. 

Harry collected a tumbler of whiskey and thanked the barman. Ginny watched him take a sip. He licked his lips and said, “I don’t need an escort.”

“Maybe not, but I had to stop all of that pathetic pining you were doing before someone spotted you. I’m tired of having to look at your sad, lonely mug on the cover of the  _ Prophet _ .”

Harry took a fortifying breath and another sip of whiskey. Once again he thanked the gods that he had avoided chaining himself to Ginny in any permanent way. “Cheers, Gin.”

As he crossed the room, heading in the direction of the Weasleys, he couldn’t help glancing towards Severus once more. From this new angle, he could see the man straight on. His hair looked clean and soft, his expression relaxed, but engaged. It didn’t make up for the dark circles under his eyes, the drop in weight, or the pallid tone of his skin. Something had Severus stressed, or distracted. Self-care had never been a priority for Severus, or Harry, but they had been working on this lacking since the urgency of their other obligations had faded after the War. 

A man next to Severus laughed and lightly touched Severus’ upper arm. There was a slight upturn to Severus’ lips. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When his eyes reopened, they locked onto Harry’s. They sparkled with amusement and his mouth still held the slight smile. Harry’s stomach flipped, having not seen that smile in so long. It was like the first rain after a drought, a long held thirst quenched. Severus would have hated the cliche, but it was wholly accurate. 

But then it was gone. Severus sobered and his eyes slid to Ginny then back to Harry. He gave Harry a once over and turned back to his conversation.

Ginny chuckled, drawing Harry’s eyes back in front of him.

He clicked his tongue and carried on his way. George spotted him first and gave a quick nod but continued talking to the circle of people.

“Harry!” Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into the group. She rubbed her hand up and down his arm before releasing him. “These are nice robes.”

“Thanks. They’re old though.” Harry sipped his drink, wished he’d thought to order a second, and tried to grab onto the conversation in front of them.

“All I’m saying is, if you want to grow at all, you need to broaden your advertising,” Ron was saying and gesturing with what looked like half a pumpkin pasty.

“Bollocks. I’ll have you know, we receive weekly complaints from McGonagall about our ‘obnoxious’ and ‘incessant’ Hogwarts presence.

“Yeah, Hogwarts,” Ron continued. “That’s just some kid’s pocket change. I said broaden. You could be reaching new customers.”

George furrowed his brow and listened. Harry lost all interest. He looked about, twisting his neck this way and that, but couldn’t find Severus anymore. When he turned back, he caught Ginny’s glittering eyes and his mood soured a bit.

The Ball carried on as it always did. After a cocktail time, where everyone greeted one another and caught up, they settled into the tables and listened to a series of speeches, updates on various post-War projects, sob stories, happy stories, remembrances. Then they ate and danced. 

It was the same every year. It was dreadfully boring. The fact that remembering in this way had become rote twinged at his conscience in a way Harry didn’t want to explore.

And it was agony to be trapped in this room with Severus, but not  _ with  _ Severus.

When after the talking came the dancing, Harry watched a very focused Ron spin Hermione clumsily around an unsurprisingly graceful George and Angelina. Molly and Arthur were all smiles and even McGonagall looked quite at home on the dance floor with the new Muggle Studies professor. Ginny and her husband were melded together. Harry went in search of more alcohol.

Severus must have had a similar desire, or maybe Harry just hoped for the synchronicity, because Harry spotted him off in the shadows nursing his way through his own double. Ever the glutton for punishment, Harry beelined it for Severus once he’d acquired his own refill.

The only acknowledgement Harry’s arrival received was a quick cut of Severus’ eyes in Harry’s direction. Harry settled into place beside him, smiled at the side of Severus’ head, and said, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Severus lifted his drink to his lips.

“I usually had to drag you away from your cauldron, kicking and screaming, for these things.”

Harry watched Severus’ eyes search the crowd.

Harry cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink. “So, where’s you date, Severus?” Harry smiled. Despite every effort, Harry knew it looked forced instead of the charmingly nonchalant he was aiming for.

Severus sipped his drink again.

Harry tugged at his ear and huffed out a laugh. “Is there a reason you’re giving me the silent treatment?”

Severus banished his tumbler and turned to Harry. “Why didn’t you bring a date, Potter?”

Harry reeled for a moment. “Well, I’m not dating anyone.” Harry made an attempt to read Severus’ reaction, if he had any, but wasn’t successful. Severus’ attention pulled away. Harry tried to grab it back. “Was that bloke-”

Severus groaned. “Here come the cameras.”

Harry spotted the  _ Prophet _ reporters. He ground his teeth and banished his glass as well. They must have felt immensely lucky to be catching Harry and Severus’ first public, post- breakup interaction.

“Suppose they already snapped a few while we were talking?” Harry asked. To himself, evidently, because when he turned Severus had vanished. Harry’d somehow forgotten how stealthy Severus was. “Bloody hell.”

Harry disappeared into the surrounding crowds and then dipped out of the Great Hall. A few stray couples lingered in the entrance area. They paused their conversations to look at Harry, a few offering smiles or small greetings; some turned to their partners and whispered, and the rest were indifferent.

Down the long corridor, Harry just caught the tail end of dark robe billow around a corner. Before he could think better of it, he followed. He didn’t much appreciate the knowing looks the whisperers gave him as he trod down the hall after Severus. 

It didn’t take long to find him. Tucked away in a room, Severus gazed out a dark window, all grace and mystery, hands pressed down against the low stone sill before him.

“Severus.”

He didn’t turn around, simply pulled to his full height and said, “I certainly hope you didn’t allow them to follow you.”

Harry had no idea. To be careful, he threw up a handful of privacy wards, Harry thinking of what they used to get up to behind wards like these. Harry saddled up beside Severus and wondered if he was thinking about those things too.

Unlikely. 

If Severus remembered those times fondly, if he’d enjoyed his time with Harry, they would still be together. 

There was a draft this close to the window and Harry shivered. He looked out, but all he could see was the two of them reflected back in the glass. Harry leaned closer to the heat of Severus’ body. Severus didn’t object; he stood motionless and impassive. Harry inched closer. 

“Won’t your date miss you, Severus?”

Severus sighed, perhaps resigning himself, and looked at Harry’s reflection. “I didn’t bring a date.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip against a smile. Harry watched Severus’ reflection. “Were they busy or something?” Severus features were blank, vacant. A defense mechanism Harry had long since learned to recognize. Severus wanted to evade answering truthfully.

Severus crossed his arms, tucking his hands away, maybe he felt the chill too. Harry wanted to wrap his arms around the narrow waist next to him, pull all the angles and strength of the man to his body, and warm him up.

Severus looked back at his own reflection. “Why did you follow me?”

“I...I don’t know.” Harry shook his head. “I wanted to.”

“And Harry Potter always does as he wants.”

Harry smiled, keeping silent as the ache of missing this man threatened to overwhelm him.

When Severus had ended their relationship, he took the plaster approach. One quick movement, one quick, painful rip. Harry had come home from work one Friday, to the home they shared, and found it oddly empty in random spots. Huge gaps in the bookshelves, the couch was missing ( _ the fucking couch _ ), various absent knick knackery left little dustless holes on the mantle. Harry had found Severus standing in the kitchen. And, with his heart pumping and his breathing tight, Harry listened to Severus say he was moving out,  _ had  _ moved out, saying that they were done. Simple, no animosity, it was just over.

In a rush all of the warning signs (Severus’ shifty eyes, his avoidance, his odd affect) had crystallized into perfect sense. Harry had nodded and watched numbly as Severus apparated away.

The questions came later, but Severus had vanished. Harry had owled; he had demanding meetings and answers. 

Severus never responded. Harry heaped more fodder on top of his already healthy pile of abandonment issues. He internalized it all, where it had festered ever since.

“We should go back,” Severus said into the silence. 

Severus turned away, long strides had him crossing the room faster than Harry could process his departure. Once Harry did, he spun around and said, “Do we have to? I was enjoying this.”

Severus stopped in the doorway and looked back, eyes roving over Harry. Severus shook his head.

And then he was gone. Harry sat back against the window ledge. He narrowed his eyes. Severus hadn’t answered his question about his lack of date. 


	3. Chapter 3

The reporters had managed to grab a few pictures. The _Prophet_ splashed them all over the front page and lamented Harry’s obvious desperation. And he couldn’t argue. The pictures showed Severus looking indifferently into his tumbler, swirling its contents, and beside him Harry hungrily taking in every detail. It was exactly how Harry remembered the moment, and it was exactly the slant the reporter took in the article. He was ‘poor, pathetic Potter’ once again. 

Harry found solace, and privacy, at Ron and Hermione’s. Sitting on the floor, he hid his eyes behind his closed fingers and then dramatically wrenched them away to display his best goofy face. Rose Weasley laughed and clapped and everything felt a bit better. 

“Mum is planning a huge party thing next weekend.” Ron sat crossed-legged behind his daughter. 

“Yes, well, you only turn one once.” Harry grinned at the curly-headed little girl. “Right, Rosey-posey?” 

“She won’t even remember it.” 

“That’s not the point of the thing,” Harry said. “You’re celebrating surviving a year of parenthood.” 

“Even Charlie’s coming,” Hermione said, and when Harry looked at her, she gave a rather significant eyebrow lift.  

Harry glowered. Not this rubbish again. “I have accepted the fact that I am not destined to be an official Weasley.” 

Ron sighed. He picked up his daughter and gave her belly raspberries until she insensible with laughter. 

“Now that you have worked her into a total frenzy, Ronald,” Hermione said. “You can put her down for her afternoon nap.” 

Ron wrinkled his nose, but lifted his daughter and trudged up the stairs to do just that. 

Harry leaned back, propping himself up on his splayed hands, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles. He smiled at Hermione. “Did you see the picture?” 

She closed her book, took a moment, and then asked, “What did you two talk about?” 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Harry said. “He asked why I didn’t bring anyone. Complained about the reporters. Got in a vague insult. And successfully deflected all of my questions.” 

Hermione hummed between tight lips. “It’s an odd coincidence, right? No seeing him once in all that time and then seeing him three times in the space of a week?” 

“Well, I always would have seen him last night at Hogwarts. That was inevitable, I guess.” Harry took in Hermione’s pressed lips, clenched fists, and the deep line between her brows. He shook his head. “Why are you angry?” 

“Because, Harry, that man owes you an explanation.” 

The mysterious end of his relationship had always bothered Hermione more than most. Not more than Harry, but pretty close. It was an extension of her know-it-all-ness, but it was still endearing. Initially, Harry had tried to keep his misery to himself, but Hermione had insisted on dragging it out of him in huge chunks, not allowing it to swallow Harry whole. 

Harry laid all the way back and stared at the ceiling. “He was just done.” 

It’s what Severus’d said. It didn’t feel right then and it didn’t feel right now.  

 

****** 

It was addicting, these brief encounters. Not that he’d had a taste, Harry needed more. More contact, more something. Harry’s mind leapt into action, going to great lengths to contrive scenarios that would cause his world to once again align with Severus’. 

Severus wasn’t a suspect in the serial murder case, Harry knew, even if the MLE wasn’t entirely convinced yet. Either way, Harry had no more legitimate auror-type reason to seek Severus out. 

Severus had completey sterilized their home of his presence, leaving Harry with no forgotten trinket to return. 

They had no mutual friends, aside from Minerva McGonagall. And Harry couldn’t think of a single Severus-centric reason to visit her at the moment. 

Not that ant of that mattered. Severus required a more subtle touch. 

Thus, the stalking. Harry’d hid in the shadows across from Severus’ flat, for the last three weeks, for as many nights out of the week as he could get away with. Granted, that didn’t amount to too many. He really did work too much. 

It had proven rather ineffective so far. 

And anyway, he had no idea what exactly he was hoping for. Severus would be apoplectic if he spotted Harry. Harry could in no way play off that he’d just happened to be in the neighborhood. 

Catching a bit of a glimpse of Severus, or his partner, or Severus with his partner, if such a person existed, would be Harry’s only gain. And, at the moment, he was living for that moment. 

 

****** 

Harry flipped the transparent DVD case over and over as he leaned back in his desk chair. 

“Do we even have something that’ll play that here?” Ron asked. 

“Doubt it.” 

It had come to Harry, in a moment of brilliance, that possibly Muggle technology had captured the serial killer entering May’s building. The last victim, the one Severus had been mixed up with, lived in Muggle London, near Diagon Alley, with a mostly Wizarding resident base, but still among Muggles. And Muggles used cameras to watch buildings and traffic and what not. After some minor confunding of officials and fudging of paperwork, Harry had obtained a copy of CCTV footage from outside the victim’s flat from the day of the murder. 

Harry smiled. “I’ve got something at my place though.” 

“Alright.” Ron straightened and crossed his arms. “You think Kreacher will make some of those lemon tart things while we watch it?” 

 Harry stood up and slid his arms into the sleeves of his red auror robes while juggling the DVD case between his hands. “We could ask.” 

Sometime later, as they sat down with lemon tarts and tea, Harry propped his feet up on the table beside the small telly he kept in his study (his study now, used to be Severus’). Ron had folded his long limbs into a chair next to Harry’s. A plate wobbled on its precarious place atop his thigh. Harry pushed the appropriate buttons on the remote and the entrance to the flat in question popped up on the screen.  

“This is both brilliant and scary.” Ron mumbled around a mouth full of food. “Muggles always watching each other like this.” 

Harry nodded. “Dead useful though.” 

After a bit of fast forwarding, some slow-motioning, and careful comparisons against photographs of the building’s residents, Ron and Harry narrowed it down to three suspects; three people who entered the building that could not be accounted for. Of course, amongst the repeated run-throughs, Harry and Ron watched Severus enter the building over and over again, looking completely unaware of what he was about to walk in on. 

“So we just need to find out who these three people are,” Ron said, standing and brushing crumbs off onto the floor. “Hey, maybe George’ll know. I’ll head to the shop, ask if he knows anyone matching these descriptions.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Harry listened to Ron’s departing footsteps and the snap of the front door closing. He hit play at the precise place he wanted on the DVD one more time and watched Severus stride down the pavement and up to the front door of the flats again. 

 

****** 

Harry would never abuse his ability to acquire CCTV footage. He wouldn’t.  

But that didn’t stop him thinking about it. About how easy it would be to Confund some official into handing over video form outside Severus’ flat. That really would be a step too far. Harry knew that. 

Severus’ flat was truly Muggle, all Muggle residents and on an all Muggle street. Harry had detected anti-apparation wards around the building, likely placed there by Severus. The wards were not strictly legal though and Harry highly doubted the man had requested the required Ministry permits. Not that Harry was going to do anything about it; Harry respected Severus’ requisite privacy.  

Harry stood on the pavement and chewed his thumbnail while he evaluated the angle of the camera attached to the corner of the coffee shop across the street from Severus’ building captured.  

“What the hell are you doing here?” The voice was raspy and tight, but Harry knew it instantly. He only hesitated a moment before turning around.  

“Severus!” Harry smiled and frowned in rapid succession. “Are you ill?” 

Severus was dressed in grey slacks and a black button up, carrying a couple of Tesco bags and wearing an irate expression. The redness of his nose, the wateriness of his eyes, and the peaky hue of his skin very effectively dulled the intensity of the expression. 

Harry licked his lips. “I was just-” Harry started, but nothing more came to him and he shook his head.  

Severus sneered and walked away, crossing the street to his building. Harry leapt after him. 

“I don’t remember inviting you to follow me, Potter.” 

Severus juggled his bags as he tried to open the door. Harry moved around him and pushed it open with a placating smile. Judging by the annoyed grunt he received, it wasn’t much appreciated. 

A couple flights of stairs later and they’d reached Severus’ front door. Severus stopped and spun on Harry, lifting a bundle of bags to shove a finger at Harry’s chest. The glare he leveled at Harry this time started off effective, but was quickly undercut by a racking coughing fit. Harry winced and pushed the hand aside to move closer.  

“Let me make you some tea.” Harry reached for the bags in Severus’ hands, but the man pulled them away. Harry raised his palms in supplication. “Please.” 

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and sniffed wetly, but then pushed the bags in the direction of Harry’s hands. Harry took them with a grin and watched Severus scramble about in the pockets of his slacks for his flat key. 

Harry entered the flat behind Severus. He checked around for signs of another person as he walked toward the kitchen area. This was easy enough to do as the flat had the living room, kitchen, dining room, and study area all in one open, box-shaped room. There were doors here and there leading off to what Harry assumed were a loo, a bedroom, and a maybe a cupboard or two. Harry didn’t see signs of anyone else but Severus.  

And Severus’ presence was everywhere. Piles of books stacked on shelves and tables, all with scraps of paper and quills jutting out of them. Forgotten tea cups and the little burlap sacks Slug and Jiggers used to package ingredients. All the usual detritus that had littered his home, _their home_ , for years. 

“Didn’t you get enough gawking in the last time you were here?” Severus’ voice was muffled. Harry looked over to see the man sitting bent over on the couch, his face buried in his hands.  

“You’ve got a nice place.” 

Severus grunted and set himself off coughing again. 

“So, tea then.” Harry laid the bags on the counters in the kitchen. He put away the few things the man had purchased, milk, tea, oranges, and several boxes of tissues, before preparing tea. The kitchen was organized relatively the same as Harry’s was, not surprising seeing as how Severus had organized Harry’s kitchen back when it was _their_ kitchen.  

Harry carried the cup of tea over to Severus. After his coughing fit had passed, Severus had moved from curling forward into a ball to sprawling inelegantly backward, his head resting on the back of the couch. Severus’ eyes were closed. Harry hesitated, not wanting to wake him if he were truly sleeping. But Severus cracked one eye open and Harry jumped and just barely kept the tea from spilling. 

“You really made me tea?” Severus said, opening the other eye and lifting his head.  

Harry handed the cup off and sat down next to the man. “Course.” 

Severus stared down into the cup, not making any move to drink it. 

Harry huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t poison it.” 

“I don’t think I would care much if you did.” Severus took a sip. “I already feel like death.” 

“You look a bit like death.” 

Severus sighed and then drank deeply from the cup. He closed his eyes and relaxed back against the sofa. Harry nudged the man’s knee with his own, pleased that he’d remembered just how to prepare Severus’ tea. Without really thinking about it, Harry reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind Severus’ ear. When his fingertips met with the bare skin of Severus’ temple, he recoiled briefly before reaching out again, laying the back of his hand flat against the man’s forehead. 

“My god, Severus,” Harry said. “You’re burning up.” 

Severus batted at his hand. “Off, Potter. It’s just a fever.” 

“You sure?” 

Severus shot a threatening look his way and flicked his wrist, summoning a potion from the kitchen. Harry caught it as it raced toward the backs of their heads. Harry just recognized the fever draught before Severus grabbed it from his fingers. As Severus downed the vial, Harry took the opportunity to lean into the man’s space. It was like having a go at snuggling a 6-foot tall furnace.  

“I’m going to make you some soup.” 

Severus groaned. “Go _home_ , Potter. I can take care of myself, for pity’s sake.” 

“It’s just soup.” It would only take him an hour. One whole hour with Severus. “I might have to run to the store, but that’s fine.” 

“You are assuming I’ll let you back in if you leave.” 

“Point. I’ll make do then. But I mean, really, Severus. You went to the store and got tea, fruit, and tissue?” Harry surveyed the fridge’s meager offerings. “Still eating well, I see.” 

“Piss off.” Severus’ voice came to his ears muffled. Harry looked over to see the man had sunk forward onto his hands again. 

Severus’ kitchen had one of those island counters. It functioned nicely as a more open workspace and as a divider, keeping the kitchen and living room somewhat separate. Harry piled the vegetables he found on top of it and pulled a cutting board from the cabinet underneath. 

“This really is a nice place.” 

Severus twisted his neck around and stared at Harry. “Why are you even here?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Making soup, Severus. Remember?” 

“Oh, for...” Severus muttered as he wobbled up to his feet. “What were you doing standing outside my building?” 

Harry didn’t want to answer, so he didn’t. Even while knowing that it was useless to hide his motivations from Severus. Harry kept his eyes down on the cutting board, organizing the pitiful vegetables he’d scrounged up. Severus plunked himself down in a stool on opposite side of the kitchen counter. 

“We had a bit of a breakthrough with the serial killer case,” Harry offered. “Using the CCTV the Muggles have.” 

“You caught him?” 

“Could be a her,” Harry said. “And no, but we have some potential suspects now.” 

Severus hummed. He watched Harry cut the carrots, most likely chomping at the bit to critique his sloppy methods. 

“Wait,” Severus said. “Potter. What exactly were you doing outside my building?” 

 Harry pulled the slightly sad looking half of an onion towards himself. 

“You weren’t.” Severus’ voice managed to be both breathy and raspy. “You were.” 

“I was curious. I only looked to see if it was possible. I hadn’t done anything.” Harry looked up and caught Severus’ wide eyes. “I wouldn’t have.” 

Severus blew out a breath and shook his head. “Too curious by half. There is no one else. The second mug belonged to Narcissa, foolish boy.” 

Harry clicked his tongue. “That whole time, at the ball...you knew what I thought...Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Why should I have to?” 

“So you haven’t got someone else then?” 

Severus sniffed and reached for one of the tissue boxes he’d bought. “Potter, who do you imagine I’d move on to?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry glared. “If I knew I wouldn’t have been looking at the security cameras. And you aren’t the island you think you are, Severus. You have people you see. There is potential all over the place if you think about it.” And Harry had thought about it. 

Severus stared at him like he’d just proclaimed himself a fairy princess. “Ridiculous. And you are mangling my vegetables.” 

“Don’t start. You like my cooking. And it could be argued that this is an improvement on their prior state.” 

Severus scowled down at the mound of slightly shriveled onion pieces. 

“You don’t have any chicken. Or celery.” Harry walked to the little walk-in pantry behind him. 

“There is some leftover takeaway in the fridge. Garlic chicken.” 

“That’ll work.” Harry replied as he gathered some broth and rice (the closest thing to noodles Severus had) from the pantry. 

Severus laid his face against a palm and his eyes slowly drifted shut as Harry worked. Chopping then dumping everything into a pot, Harry sniffed the box of old chicken first before tossing it in too. After leaving it to simmer on the cooktop, Harry walked quietly over to Severus. The heat coming off of him wasn’t nearly as violent, the draught having worked its magic. Harry peered closer at Severus; he seemed to have truly fallen asleep propped up at the counter. 

Harry swallowed, swiped his tongue across his lower lip and the pulled it between his teeth. He obviously couldn’t leave him sleeping sitting on a stool, draped over the counter. He pitched his voice low and said, “Severus.” 

“Harry...” It was just barely a breath of a whisper. It sent a bolt of heat down Harry’s spine and caused his lips to curl into a grin. “I think we should move you into a bed.” 

“A bed.” Severus tried, in vain, to open his eyes. “...Harry.” 

“Alright. Up you go.” Harry slowly wrapped an arm around Severus’ thin waist and carefully hoisted him off the stool. Severus’ head lulled to Harry’s shoulder, and Harry touched his check to the warm temple on offer. 

“Tired.” 

“I know. Which door is the bedroom, Severus?” 

“Don’t remember.” 

Harry scoffed. “Right. Well, let’s try this one.” Severus was lighter than Harry, but taller by half a foot, making him gangly and awkward when all his weight was pressed to Harry’s side, not that Harry minded. He lucked out and found the desired room on the first go. He maneuvered Severus to the bed. A modern metal frame outlined strewn sheets, and Harry lowered him down amongst the fluffy, ruffled mess. 

“You found my bed, Harry.” Severus mumbled into a pillow. 

Harry grinned. “We all have our skills.” 

Harry took the presented opportunity to look around the new bedroom. It felt like Severus in here too, and it smelled like him too- more so than elsewhere, concentrated Severus. Harry’s eyes prickled and he blinked several times. He pulled in a deep breath to reel all of the emotions back in. 

A snore rumbled out of Severus, sobering Harry right up. 

Then his eyes landed on the couch. Their couch. The bloody couch Severus had taken with him when he’d moved out. It was shoved into the far corner of the bedroom and piled high with books and parchment. Hidden and buried.  

Harry remembered buying the damn thing together. Neither of them had ever really bought proper furniture before. They did it like Muggles, at one of those chain stores. Severus had stared at the thing for almost an hour, watching Harry test it out and listening to him ramble on about it. Then they brought it home and broke it in properly. Then continued breaking it in for another five years. It was a good bloody couch. It deserved better than its current fate.  

Harry looked back to the sleeping man. His angular face squished soft into his pillow and his black hair fanned out against the pale blue of his pillowcase, one strand fluttering with each congested breath. The comforter rose and fell as his lungs struggled a bit to find air. 

Harry didn’t quite know what to make of this, if there was anything to make of this. It was just a couch. 

Severus couldn’t have attached the same sentiment to it Harry did. If he had, if some part of him held Harry dear, they would still be together. 

Harry went back to the kitchen to watch the soup finish off before he packed it away in the fridge for when Severus woke up. Then he quietly let himself out of the flat.  


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Ginny’s breakup had ruffled the Weasleys. They had been even more thrown by Harry’s quick pursuit of Severus Snape in its wake. But, as any supportive family does, they eventually came around and accepted Harry and his decisions for what they were. His.

Ginny marrying John, a keeper for the  Chudley Cannons, a year later helped immensely in encouraging them all to move on.

The Weasleys warmed to Severus, but, war hero or not, he was still Severus. He was crap at socializing on most days. Fortunately, he was also devoted and loyal and passionate, and had aimed all that intensity right at Harry and their relationship. It went a long way towards making up for his lack of social graces in the eyes of the Weasleys. 

in a distant way. In as much as they had accepted Harry and Severus, Harry knew deep down they had thought he could do better.

After an acceptable grieving period, Charlie had started coming up in conversation. Molly threw them together at gatherings. Despite their mutual complete lack of interest.  Despite the fact that Charlie lived in Romania and Harry in England. Despite the fact they’d only met a tiny handful of times and had nothing in common, outside of a love of the Weasley family. 

Yet, everyone seemed convinced he was Harry’s soul mate, which was why they had been seated next to each other at Rose’s birthday party, and why Hermione  was shooting a thumbs up in his direction from across the table.

“So, how are the dragons?” Harry asked over the surrounding chatter.

“Dragon-like.” Charlie smirked. He wasn’t entirely unpleasant to look at when he smirked, or any other time really.

Harry grinned back, still not interested, aesthetic appreciation aside. “Still dating that Greek bloke?”

“Nah,” Charlie answered. He leaned his mouth to Harry’s ear and lowered his voice. “He was a great shag, but he was so fucking clingy.” He pulled away and rested back into his chair. “Know what I mean?”

Harry nodded, thinking about he didn’t mind clingy so much, wished he could find clingy , actually, and an appreciator of those who cling. He looked across the table to where Hermione was smiling at him. He lifted one eyebrow in question. When her eyes flicked between him and Charlie in response, Harry’s lips  tightened and he rolled his eyes. His eyes swept the rest of the table, avoiding Hermione and taking in all the rest of the paired off Weasleys and their offspring.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Molly called out to the crowd as she levitated a giant bear shaped cake out to the table.

Very much used to noise and crowds, Rose giggled and waved her chubby little fists about as the required song was sung and the exuberant cheers were cheered, and the impressive cake was cut and consumed.

And all Harry could think about the entire time was Severus. Severus’ face when he had first held Rose, the one time he had done so, shortly after her birth. The gravity and sincerity and painful gentleness of his expression when he looked at her, and his beautiful hands as they had cradled Rose’s tiny head, the pads of his fingers shifting lightly over the soft baby fuzz.

Harry had cried. In fairness, it was an emotional time, his best friends having their first baby and all.

Severus had clearly been moved by the event as well. Harry had tried to get the man to talk to him about it, but they were at the tail end of their downfall by then. Severus avoided him, looked passed him, through him. He disappeared into his lab for what felt like days at a time. It took all of Harry’s energy just to get the man to eat and sleep with him with some regularity. 

Harry shoved the dour thoughts down; this should be a joyous occasion after all. He threw himself wholeheartedly into a game of hide-and-seek with Teddy and various other Weasley children to reorient his mood.

After exhausting himself, and hopefully a few of the kids, Harry sat back down at the now mostly empty table. He picked up a leftover bread roll, a specialty of  Mrs Weasley’s. Ginny plunked down next to him just as he’d picked his way to the soft center of it. 

Ginny stuck out her bottom lip. “So sulky, Potter.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the tightening of his jaw or the gnashing of his molars.

“You missed my announcement while you were playing,” Ginny said. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” Shock spurred Harry to look over at her. “Congratulations, Gin.”

“Thanks.”

She grabbed a biscuit. She ate it in two bites and grabbed another. 

Harry picked at his roll and watched the kids toss around an oversized snitch while the adults laughed and danced.

Ginny brushed the crumbs from her fingers and said, “It would be weird if you pulled my brother.”

“We agree on that one.”

Ginny hummed, settling back in her chair and eyeing Harry. “And a bit gross.”

“Yup.” Harry popped the last letter and smiled thinly.

“You are a real downer, Potter.” With that last statement, Ginny stood and walked away, leaving him entirely alone.

Harry popped the rest of the roll into his mouth, just as buttery and wonderful as he remembered. 

******

“You ever get tired of this, Harry?”

“Tired of what?” Harry’s brow furrowed and then rose. “Being an auror?”

“Yeah.” Ron continued to scrawl on the form in front of him.

Harry looked closely at his friend and narrowed his eyes. “I get tired of the paperwork. I like being an auror. Why?”

“This paperwork reminds me of homework. It’s like, isn’t it enough that I went to class, you know? Why do I have to write about it too?”

Harry scoffed, geared up a witty response, but never got it out. Robards was cutting across the room and shouting Harry’s name. Harry leapt to his feet and met the man halfway.

Robards put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Potter, there’s been another one. The serial killer case. Let’s go. Weasley, you too!”

Ron was already up and ready to go.

******

The next evening Harry stood in the shadows of the now familiar alley across from Severus’ building. He held a bag of warm food against his chest, a possible script running through his head, one that would get him through Severus’ door. He gnawed at his bottom lip, took one burn deep breath and then another. 

It had been ten days since he’d left Severus passed out in his bed with a fridge full of soup. Harry had sent an owl to check up on him and received a note in return with a brusque confirmation of Severus’ continued existence. 

Harry squared his shoulders and crossed the street as a pleasant looking old lady was exiting the building. She held the door open for Harry with a smile. Once at the flat door, Harry allowed a moment of panic to sweep completely through him, and he knocked. 

He attempted to look a mix of pitiful and contrite and confident, knowing Severus would see him through the door’s peephole. It must have worked because Harry was soon face-to-face with Severus.

“I see I am going to have to move again.” His tone was cold, but as he had opened the door, Harry didn’t quite buy his presence was entirely unwanted. 

Harry held up the bags. “I brought food.”

Severus scowled. “Potter.” Severus pulled his shoulders back and crossed his arms, his sneer began to blossom in all its crooked-tooth glory.

All previous plans forgotten, “Please. Severus, please,” rushed out of Harry’s mouth.

Severus shook his head, stiffly. “You cannot think-”

“There was a kid today.”

Severus met Harry’s eyes, his expression loosening. Severus’ throat worked through a heavy swallow.

“She was only eight. And I don’t-” Harry pressed his lips together. “I brought food. Because I... well. Because, you know.”

Severus closed his eyes, blowing out a breath before stepping back and opening the door fully. “Yes, I know.”

The flat was dark, save for the glow from the  telly , paused on a film of some kind. Harry gestured toward the screen with his chin. “The benefits of a Muggle neighborhood, eh?”

“Indeed.”

“What are you watching?” Harry laid the bags out on the island counter.

“Something horrible. Mind-numbing.”

“Sounds perfect.” Harry watched as Severus peeked in all the bags. He couldn’t help but smile as Severus lifted the lid from the spaghetti bolognaise, inhaled deeply, and sighed obscenely. “See, Severus, I feel better already.”

“I never understood the odd pleasure you seem to take in fattening me up.” Severus moved onto unwrapping the garlic bread and removing the foil from the banoffee pie. “I should really be frightened, I think.”

“Definitely. Your arteries should tremble before me.”

Severus scoffed, but his eyes danced over the spread before him.

Harry collected dishes and cutlery from the various locations around the still disconcertingly familiar kitchen. He turned and laid them down next to where Severus had arranged everything. The man was wearing a cotton t-shirt. Grey. Harry loved the man dressed like this. Casual and human and touchable. Even though he’d paired the casual shirt with a pair of well-pressed trousers, just to watch a rubbish film on his new couch.

They moved to said new couch after piling their plates up with food. Severus sat on one end, his plate balanced on a crossed knee, a precarious place considering the slenderness of said appendage. Harry sat on the other end of the couch, shifted ever so slightly closer to the middle than the edge. He sunk down and propped his calves and feet up on the coffee table, his plate resting on his stomach. Seeing as how he remembered with brilliant clarity the  day he, Harry, had purchased said coffee table with Severus, he ignored the chiding look the man passed him when he settled his legs there. 

“Why not share this bounty with Weasley?”

“I like you better.”

Severus stilled with his fork halfway to his mouth. Harry watched with bated breath, hoping something would come of the declaration. But nothing did, and Severus’ hand finished its progression to his mouth. 

“But Granger’s cooking...” Severus made a face and Harry grinned. They’d both been subjected to dinner at Ron and Hermione’s far more than either liked to think about too much. It really was a shame that a person who so enjoyed food and eating wound up married to someone so abysmal at cooking. 

“Well, she does try, Severus.”

“Points for persistence, I suppose.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone you just awarded points to a Gryffindor.”

Severus gave Harry an unimpressed look and restarted his film. 

“Lord of the Rings? I know this one. I thought you said it was mind-numbing?”

Severus grunted.

“I do remember you liked the book.”

“Yes.”

“That guy looks like Dumbledore.”

“Yes.” Severus sighed. “He does a bit.”

They watched the movie and ate the food and just existed in the same room. As far as Harry was concerned, it was brilliant. Beyond brilliant. And familiar. Not that Harry and Severus had been avid film watchers, though it did happen occasionally. But the smell of Harry’s cooking mixed with the smell of Severus’ life, Severus’ relaxed form mere feet away from Harry’s relaxed self, and their idle chatter and quick banter. It was like going back in time. The loneliness  Harry’d been shoving down into a tight ball in his gut all these months dissolved in the face of it. Whole. Harry had found the other half of himself again. 

Harry did everything in his power not to think about having to return to his cold, empty house at the end of the night.

The credits started rolling and Harry chewed on his thumbnail. “There are three of these  films , aren’t there?”

Severus stood and stretched an arm until the joint popped. “Yes.”

Harry’s eyes followed Severus as he stepped up and leaned down over Harry. Harry’s heart happily skipped a beat before the man’s motive became apparent. Severus took Harry’s plate from its resting place on his stomach, his fingers brushing the cloth of Harry’s shirt, making the fabric shift against the skin of his stomach, the muscles flexing and pulling and forcing heat to race up his thighs. Then Severus pulled away and added Harry’s plate to his own and walked them both to the kitchen sink. 

Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to indulge in fantasy. He drew in a shaky breath through parted lips, his mind awash in dimly lit memories. He let his own fingers drift across the place Severus’ just touched. He thought of porcelain skin and strong hands and whispered desires. 

The couch shifted as Severus sat back down. Harry’s limbs felt heavy and languid as he pulled himself back into reality. He looked over at Severus and Severus looked back. Severus relaxed back in the cushion, his legs falling open slightly, one hand coming up to rest on his stomach, and the other moving to the cushion between them, fingers slightly curled into the fabric. 

Severus asked, “Are you going to speak of the reason you are here? The child.”

Harry swallowed and pushed his face back into the couch cushion behind him, drowning himself in the scent of Severus’s flat. Then he shifted his eyes back to Severus and said, “I wasn’t planning to.”

Severus’ dark eyes swept over  Harry, his face illuminated by only the dull light from the  telly . Harry thought briefly, insanely, of crawling over into Severus’ lap. Of just taking the comfort he wanted. But Severus sighed, looked away, and pulled his hand back from the cushion and up behind his head. 

“You may pick another movie.” Severus nodded towards the television and the pile of DVDs atop it. 

Harry stood to do just that.

******

“So, you and Charlie?” Hermione slid into the booth seat across from Harry. 

“Nope. Not me and Charlie.” Harry lifted the top bread slice off his sandwich and set it aside. “Never me and Charlie, Hermione.”

“Merlin, Harry.” Hermione huffed. “Why not?”

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Because. I’ve explained before. Don’t make me do it again.” He picked the cheese off the sandwich next. “Plus, I think I am maybe getting somewhere with Severus.” He put the cheese in his mouth.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shut it. Her eyebrows drew together, and she drummed her fingers against the wood of the table. “Why- when- I-”

A waitress interrupted Hermione’s stammering to take her order and to refresh Harry’s drink. 

Harry stuck a few crisps onto his sandwich and replaced the top layer of bread before squishing it closed. “Look, Hermione, I know. I do. My hopes aren’t up or anything.” Hermione gave him a look. “Alright. Maybe they are up a bit.”

“How though?” Hermione leaned forward. “You said you thought he was seeing someone new.”

“I was wrong.”

“But he barely looked at you at the Memorial Ball.”

Harry sent her a baleful look for that reminder. “I know.”

Hermione shook her head. The waitress deposited a glass of water and a straw in front of Hermione. Harry took a bite of his sandwich. “Harry...” She stopped. “I know you want for it to go back to how it was, but sometimes, sometimes, you just need to move on. People change and they move on. You should too, I think.”

Harry swallowed, placed his sandwich down, and laced his fingers together on the table in front of him. “I can’t.” Her shrugged. “I just can’t yet. He is talking to me again, finally, and-”

“That does not mean that he-”

“I know.” Harry lifted his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. 

Hermione looked at him with such pity that Harry wanted to throw his sandwich at her head. Harry looked away instead. The restaurant they were in was packed with Muggles on their lunch breaks. A group wearing slick suits at the table next to them were frantically pouring over manilla folders. 

“Your tune’s sure changed, anyway,” Hermione said. She’d pulled her reaction together and now just seemed curious. “When have you been seeing him then?”

“I just, I go there to his, sometimes, when I’m in the area.”

“Harry,” Hermione groaned. “Has speaking to him involved more than him just tossing you out on the pavement?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I took a bunch of food over a few days ago and we watched films.” He wrapped his fingers around his sandwich and lifted it to his mouth.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She smiled slightly and then frowned. “At least promise me, Harry, promise that you will be careful.”

Harry smirked around a mouthful.

“Not that kind of careful.” Hermione blushed. “Well, that kind too. Obviously.”

“No, I know.” Harry smiled. “Like I said, my hopes aren’t up, not much.”

The waitress dropped off Hermione’s meal. Hermione gave him a look that clearly showed she didn’t believe Harry’s last statement.

“So,” Hermione said, pouring dressing over her salad. She looked up and wrinkled her nose. “Dinner and a film?” 

“Yeah, not as date- ish as it sounds. We sat with three feet of empty air between us. I feel asleep halfway through the second film, drooled all over myself, then he sent me off home.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Of course, we are taking every incident very seriously.” Robards voice echoed against the atrium walls.

A blonde girl pushed forward through the gathered masses. A reporter from the  _ Daily Prophet _ . Harry recognized her as one of their more aggressive employees. “Severus Snape was brought in last month and then quickly released. Will you please comment on whether Mr. Snape’s connection to the Lead  Auror on this case, one Harry Potter, is relevant to that release?”

Harry’s back molars ground together. 

“One has nothing to do with the other,” Robards continued. “Appropriate measures were taken to ensure impartiality.” 

Another murder, a retired  auror , had quickly followed the double murder of the solicitor and his  eight year old daughter. Panic had picked up across the Wizarding world, understandably, really. Harry scanned the gathered crowd. Reporters and concerned citizens alike had shown up to hear Robards speak. Arthur stood a few rows back and Harry tried to smile slyly, with just his eyes, while maintaining parade rest and appropriate gravitas. Arthur caught his eye and returned the gesture.

Ron sighed from beside him as Robards started wrapping things up and dismissing everyone. Harry and Ron turned, almost in unison, and marched towards the lifts.

Ron leaned toward Harry and whispered, “Merlin, I thought that would never end.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “You just had to stand there.”

“I know.” They let Robards and some other coworkers take the first lift, and waited, mostly alone, for the next one. “Now I have a pile of paperwork to look forward to.”

“Well.” Harry had no idea what to say. This was their job after all, same old, same old. “Yeah.”

Ron shifted on his feet. “It’s your birthday next month. The big 2-5.” Ron smiled, but it was strained.

Harry groaned. “Please. Nothing big or anything.”

“I have no control over mum.” The lift opened and the stepped inside. 

“I know. Just, just subliminally send ‘small-small-small’ to her for the next few weeks.”

“We could head her off entirely and have a friend-do.” Harry didn’t think that would stop Molly Weasley, but Ron continued, “Just Hermione and me. Neville- it’ll be his birthday too- and Hannah. George and Angelina.”

Couples, couples everywhere. “I don’t know.” A quiet night would be infinitely better.

“Luna, if she’s in the country.”

Harry had done his last few birthdays, all of them since the war, at the Weasleys, with Severus in tow, of course. Except for last year when the man had inexplicably not shown up. Severus had brushed it off when  Harry’d confronted him, ready for a proper row. Not the most pleasant of memories that. Severus had ended things with Harry within a fortnight.

Harry would love to forego his birthday entirely this year.

“Luna is in South America.”

“Oh year. Okay.” The elevator opened on the MLE floor. Ron’s shoulders slumped. “Well, just us-”

“Couples.”

“What?”

Harry sat down at his desk. “Just me and a bunch of happy couples, thrilled to have a night away from the kiddies.”

Ron blushed a bit. “We could invite...Dean?”

“Just forget it Ron. Just- let’s not.”

“Maybe Charlie.”

Harry sighed.

“Or maybe I’ll research a bit on that subliminal message thing and not plan anything.” Ron walked backwards towards his own desk. “Or, and this might be a bit wild, you could find a date to bring.”

Harry sneered and pulled a stack of paperwork in front of him.

“You know, Hermione is dying to set you up with that bloke she worked with on that thing.”

Harry closed his eyes and laid his head down on his desk. 

******

At the end of every school year, McGonagall asked Harry to give a speech to the Defense classes. Harry didn’t mind doing it. He quite enjoyed teaching, in fact. He wished the visits would stay centered on Defense and that they didn’t always devolve into retellings of the Chosen One’s accomplishments.

But alas…

The trip up to the Headmistress’ office for tea and biscuits that always occurred afterwards more than made up for it.

“I got to see little Victoire at Gringotts last week.” Minerva dropped a sugar cube into her second cup of tea. “Not so little anymore though, I suppose.”

Harry, mouth full of biscuit, nodded his agreement.

“They grow up so fast, you know.”

Harry had no idea. Minerva seemed to realize that immediately, spoon clinking loudly as she averted her eyes and stirred her tea with more vigor than was needed.

Harry had the family he wanted, with the Weasleys, Hermione included. And he never held great ambitions to be a father. He’d had his moments during Hermione’s pregnancy. Not jealousy, but curiosity. Wondering how he’d stack up as a father. The fact that he wasn’t one when  all of his friends seemed to be making the plunge had not bothered him. He was only twenty-four after all, and he never really understood the Wizarding World’s propensity for procreating young.

Harry swallowed his shortbread. “I saw her a few weeks back at Rose’s birthday.”

“Oh, has it been a year already? It feels like just yesterday Hermione was pregnant.” Minerva looked up at Dumbledore’s portrait. “Time just flies.”

Dumbledore twinkled, as much as a portrait could. “Yes, it does tend to do that.”

Minerva sipped her tea, seemingly lost in thought for the moment.

Harry was closest to Hermione in some ways, with them both coming up from the Muggle world. They had been alone in the Wizarding World, adopted by the Weasleys, Hermione more officially, obviously. But Rose felt like his niece. He imagined she’d call his Uncle Harry one day. He had said something to that effect to Severus once, when Hermione announced she was having a girl. He’d joked that maybe Rose had an Uncle Severus in her future as well. The man’s reaction had had Harry laughing for ages after. It wasn’t quite so funny in retrospect. 

“Oh!” Minerva broke into his thoughts. “Harry, you should come to the Quidditch final this year. Gryffindor versus Slytherin.” She put her teacup down and leaned forward on the desk. “It’s had to be delayed for weather, we’re just barely getting it in before the closing supper, but we’ve had a spectacular season. I am sure the teams would love to see you in the stands.”

“Oh.” Harry still loved Quidditch, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched a Hogwarts game. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Yes. You can sit with me. We’ll have lovely weather, I’m sure.”

Harry smiled.

******

The weather was lovely; blue skies, a smattering of fluffy white clouds, some warm, glittery sunbeams, and a slight, but entirely refreshing breeze. Almost nauseatingly lovely actually.

Harry’d decided to forego the wizard robes for the day. Instead, he wore a pair of dark jeans Severus had always liked and a stripped polo he’d charmed to be maroon and gold for the occasion. He felt happy, bloody cheery. He couldn’t imagine a more auspicious start to the day.

That was until he made his way up the stands to take his place at Minerva’s left and found Severus was already at her right.

Severus looked at him, taken aback for a mere moment before he turned to Minerva, his mouth twisted to the side and brow pinched.

Minerva ignored Severus. “Harry! I’m so glad you could make it.” She patted the bench next to her. “Come. Sit.”

For his part, Harry grinned, like a loon most likely. He didn’t care. He couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. He sat down, the benches charmed to be well-cushioned and accommodating, and kept on smiling. 

“Lovely weather,” Harry said, knowing the small talk would irk Severus.

“Yes, lovely,” Minerva smiled and looked at Severus. The witch hat she wore, bedecked with tiny lions, roared quietly when she moved her head.

Severus heaved out a sigh, his whole body rising and falling with the effort. He crossed his arms high over his chest and looked out across the field. He was in his usual black robes. They were nicer than the teaching robes of yore, softer and more open, the buttons up to his chin having bothered him after the snake bite. They were still conservative by modern standards, but not quite so priestly. Harry itched to touch them. He knew exactly how they would feel under his palms, how easily the buttons would give when he applied his fingers to the task. Harry moved his eyes out to the field, reluctantly. 

Minerva had always been particularly supportive of Harry and Severus’ relationship. It had gone a long way towards convincing others of its veracity. Even when people could get over the swift change in the predominately contentious nature  of he and Severus’ previous relationship, the age gap usually did them in. It did most people in. Minerva seemed to, not approve exactly, but understand more than most.

Though Severus had had enough issue with the age difference to more than make up for every witch and wizard that didn’t give a toss. It was a central issue early in their relationship. One Harry thought they’d conquered; Severus hadn’t brought it up in ages on any account. Harry looked over at him now. For a few years after the war, Severus had seemed to age backwards, finally looking closer to his thirty-something years. Now, forty-five, and though currently looking tired, peaky, and a touch too slim, he st ill looked far healthier. Leaving his career as a teacher-slash-spy behind had done wonders for Severus all around.

“Now, then, Severus,” Minerva said. “Before Harry  arrived I believe we were setting the terms of our bet?”

Severus ran a slim finger back and forth over his pressed lips. “Yes. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I can’t pawn off detention duty or patrolling hallways anymore.”

“Pity.” Severus smirked. “For you.”

Minerva hummed. “Yes. What do you think, Harry?”

“Oh, can I get in on this?” Harry leaned forward and grinned at the man. “Should we wager something, Severus?”

Severus raised a single eyebrow. “I think you have even less to offer me than Minerva, Potter.”

Harry stuttered out a chuckled, that actually stung a bit, and said, “Ouch, dear.” 

Severus turned a fierce glare on him at that. Minerva smothered a grin.

“I mean, ‘Ouch, Snape, you bastard.’” Harry raised one eyebrow. “Better?”

“Marginally.” Severus’ face lightened. Harry, of course, smiled in anticipation. Severus said, “If Slytherin wins, Potter, you will forget my address.”

Harry swallowed.  _ Not for anything _ , on the tip of his tongue.

“No more hanging about like a lost pup,” Severus continued.

Minerva swatted Severus’ knee. Harry turned his attention to the crowds populating the stands and left his companions to work out the terms of their wager without him.

A few other professors from his time at Hogwarts were there. Neville was there as well; he’d been apprenticing to Professor Sprout this year with the intention of taking over her post when she retired in another year. His wife Hannah was sat with him, snuggled close with their hands entwined. They tried to engage Harry in conversation about various Hogwarts happenings, but he just couldn’t focus wholly on any topic. It was as if someone had dumped cold water on him. He felt cold, but his nerves were alive and on fire. The pleasant breeze suddenly felt like it could cause him to crumble away. 

Minerva leaned over and touch his knee, bringing him back forward. “The new seeker is a third year,” she said as they watched the teams take the field. “Very fast, good catcher. His eye isn’t as keen as yours. He ends up relying on the other person spotting the snitch, then being faster and more in catching up to it.”

“They all seem so small.” The captains were shaking hands. “I can’t remember being that tiny.”

Severus added in, “You should, seeing as you still are.”

Harry looked over, wanting more than merely the words to judge the comment, but Severus’ eyes were on the field. 

Severus used hostility as a shield. He was mean to you before you could be mean to him.

Of course, sometimes Severus just didn’t like you. Most times, if Harry was being honest. But Severus had no reason to guard against Harry. Harry’d been nothing but devoted to Severus, his biggest cheerleader, for the last seven years. 

Such an idiot. Harry felt like a bloody fool. God, maybe it really was time to move on.

Who clings to something a year after it was over? 

Harry mashed his lips together. Fuck it. “I’ll take it.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd’s cheering.

Severus’ face was impassive and still. And, god, that was confusing too, and Harry was tired.

“The bet.” They all stood as the players swooped around the field. “I won’t alter my memory, but if Slytherin wins, I’ll leave you alone.”

Severus eyed him and asked, slowly, “If Gryffindor wins?”

Harry looked back over. “I’ll still avoid your flat, but when we do bump into each other, if you could try not being a total  arse that would be fabulous.”

Severus’ eyes shifted over Harry. “Fine.”

Minerva looked back and forth between them, frowning. The corners of her mouth pulled down even more and her eyes seemed to drop. She looked sad. The sentiment resonated loudly in Harry’s chest.

******

Harry had no idea where they’d been hiding, but someone from the  _ Prophet _  had snapped a picture of Severus, Minerva, and Harry sitting together at the Quidditch match.

They’d slapped it on the front page with a headline proclaiming Harry and Severus’ impending reconciliation. 

The picture almost had Harry convinced. Severus leant forward with a smirk lightening his face. He had it aimed it passed Minerva at a grinning Harry. Only a trick of the light, of course, as Severus hadn’t joked with Harry at all that day. 

Harry glumly buttered a piece of toast and stared at the bloody picture. 

It was unbearable. 

Gryffindor had lost. Not that it mattered. The terms of the bet made Harry’s intentions clear.

Harry Potter was moving on from Severus Snape.

He would put himself out there. He’d date and find himself and all that other nonsense single people claimed to be doing. He would strive not to let every little thing remind him of what and whom he’d lost.

Starting tomorrow.

He took a bite of his toast and watched the picture loop repeatedly.

Today, he’d have Kreacher close the  floo and turn away visitors. He would rearrange his house-  _ his  _ house- not their house. The pictures and mementos Severus had so generously left Harry would finally be put in a box and shoved to the back of a closet to be forgotten. He’d wallow and feel especially sorry for himself one last time.

Tomorrow, he would be a new Harry. 

Harry watched the picture loop one more time. He ran his finger lightly down Severus’ face, butter smearing his features into nothing.

******

Harry held up his end of the bet. Weeks had passed and he hadn’t pestered Severus once. He avoided the street in front of his flat, not that that was hard. He didn’t owl. He didn’t ask after Severus when he’d run into Draco Malfoy in  Diagon Alley. It was all going swimmingly.

Of course, telling yourself to get over someone and actually getting over them were not the same thing.

If it were that easy, Harry would have moved on ages ago, probably. Maybe.

“Hermione.” Harry entered her office. “I’m ready.”

She cocked her head to one side. “For lunch?” She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s only ten.”

“No.” His face scrunched up, annoyed he had to spell it out. He sat in the chair in front of her desk. “For you to set me up with that one bloke.”

Hermione’s face cleared at once, she even clapped quietly. “Oh, Harry. You will really like David, I know it.”

“Ok.”

“He’s fit and bright.” Hermione pulled a piece of parchment towards herself. “You should go upstairs now, before you change your mind, and invite him to lunch or coffee or something.”

“Sounds...good.” It didn’t.

Hermione scratched a name and an office number onto the parchment and handed it across. “Promise to give it more than one go. If the first date doesn’t work out, I mean.”

Harry folded the name and number away into his pocket. “Yeah.”

“Because getting back into dating is hard at first, after a tough breakup, but you have to persevere.”

Harry scoffed. “Because you’d know, Hermione.”

“Well,” her cheeks pinked a little, “I read it in a book.”

Touched that his friend had read some dating guide, presumably with his welfare in mind, Harry smiled. “I promise then.”

******

David was fit. Very fit.

Severus hadn’t been the first man  Harry’d been attracted to, or the last, but-

No. Harry stopped that train of thought. No comparing. David would pass or fail on his own merit.

David was quite fit.

“This is a great little place.” David smiled.  It was a lovely smile. 

“Yeah, I thought so.” Harry had chosen a Muggle café in Hampstead, hoping to avoid the press. Even though a petty part of him hoped that Severus would still find out somehow.

Harry had asked David out the same day he’d talked to Hermione. David had been delighted and, with a charming alacrity, agreed to a lunch date that weekend. Harry spent the rest of the week hoping the man’s eagerness was to do with Harry’s own charms and not with his fame.

Harry had to give it to Hermione. On paper, David and he were well matched. David was older than Harry by ten years. He played on a Quidditch league for the  solicitors firm where he and Hermione worked. David had never been married and had any children, despite preferring serious relationships. He owned a lovely home in Sussex with a vegetable garden.

“I’d read somewhere that you grew up with Muggles.”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of beer, licked his lips, and nodded. “Yeah.”

The thing where people knew all about him while he knew nothing about them was nothing new, but it was off putting. It made conversations lopsided. It left Harry feeling vulnerable and powerless. Harry smiled past it.

“Me too.” David picked up half his sandwich. “Well, not entirely. My dad is a wizard, so I knew about everything, but he prefers to live amongst the Muggles.” David flashed his lovely teeth in broad grin and bit into his lunch.

They talked about their years at Hogwarts (avoiding reminiscing about professors) and about their current jobs (lamenting how busy they left them). It was nice. Different. Not fireworks, but nice.

******

“Did you talk about the year he spent in Tibet?”

“No.” Harry watched Hermione slice a banana with her wand and float it over to Rose’s highchair. “But it was just lunch, you know, not an interview, so.”

Hermione squinted her eyes at him. “Are you going to see him again?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded. They’d arranged for a second date for the next weekend. A proper dinner and a film type date. “I don’t know though, Hermione.”

Ron walked into the kitchen and sank into a chair next to Harry. “What don’t you know, mate?”

“Harry was telling me about his date with David.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that’s good, yeah?” Ron said, and made a face at Rose, making her laugh and leak banana. “Hey!  So we’re a go with the birthday party plan then? Neville and George and all them?”

“Oh!” Hermione smiled. “That would be fun. We could have it at the Three Broomsticks.” She wiped Rose’s face. “But wait, what does Harry dating David-”

“Whoa.” Harry held up his hands. “I am not  _ dating _  anyone.”

“-have to do with a party?”

“Well, Harry didn’t want to go alone.” Ron answered Hermione. “With all of us being couples and what not.”

“It was only one date. He’s not...he’s not my-” Harry choked on the work and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re not dating.”

“You have a second date though.”

“Ah, cheers, mate!” Ron summoned a drink.

“And this party could be your third.” Hermione bit her bottom lip, her eyes glazing over as she began planning.

******

The second date was also nice, and it ended with a kiss. Just a peck, but even that had sent Harry’s stomach roiling. 

He invited David to the birthday party anyway. Hermione had her heart set on it, and Harry reckoned this must be a normal part of moving on.

Severus had been his first serious relationship, and they’d been together for so long. The wrongness of the ‘next one’ would probably fade. 

David was nice, and they were well suited. Harry would just give it time.  Perseverance .

“Are you ready for this?” Harry asked.

David smiled at him and stepped away from the doorway so Harry could cross the threshold. Like the man himself, David’s house was nice. “Ready for what? Dinner with your friends?”

“No. Well, yes.” Harry tilted his head to the side. “But I meant going public, I guess.”

David’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape.

“For some reason the press cares about my,” Harry gestured with his hand, “personal life. So there is a chance a picture could make it in the papers or something.”

“I don’t care.”

“Maybe an article about you.”

“It’s fine.”

Harry smiled tightly. “Okay.”

Harry took the man’s hand and they apparated to Hogsmeade. It was a nice night, the sun just going down and leaving the sky a beautiful multicolored canvas. He kept a hold of David’s hand as they walked into the Three Broomsticks. It was full of familiar faces: Neville and Hannah, George and Angelina, Dean and a girl  Harry’d never met before, Ginny and John, and, of course, Ron and Hermione.

Introductions and greetings were passed back and forth before they all settled in. Conversation flowed, as did drink and food. People seemed to like David. He told a few good stories and seemed to really get on with Neville in particular. It was bandied about that they should all go out as a group more often.

Harry stood up. “I’m going to order another round.”

Everyone cheered, and Ginny rose from her chair. “I’ll help you.”

Harry didn’t need help, thanks to magic and all, so he knew something was coming.

Ginny bumped his shoulder as they walked. “Your date is cute.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled. “He is.”

“It’s unfortunate you don’t like him.”

“What? No, I do.” Harry’s brow contracted and he smiled incredulously. “He’s nice.”

“Yeah. He is.” Ginny said. She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “But that’s not what you like.”

“You’re daft.” Harry ordered the round of drinks. “Of course, I want to be with someone nice.” Even as he said it though...

Ginny turned around to face them room. “I’m not nice.”

Harry scoffed and turned to the room as well.

“Snape isn’t nice.”

Harry ran his tongue along his top teeth. “I...”

“ _ You _  are an idiot.” Ginny looked over at David. “And he is boring.”

“He’s not. He’s well-travelled. He plays Quidditch.”

Ginny circled a single finger in the air near her ear. 

Harry swallowed and watched David laughing with Neville and Dean. “You’re saying I like arseholes.”

Ginny laughed.

Harry blushed. “Oh, god, Gin. Are you twelve?”

“You like someone to spar with, have good, proper rows.” Ginny sucked in a breath. “Oh!” She grabbed Harry’s forearm. “Draco!”

“Oh, God, no.” Harry tried to shake the notion from his head. “He is so...whiny.” They both chuckled, Ginny more than Harry.

Ginny, still smiling, said, “Poor guy.”

“Who, Draco?” Harry levitated the trays of drinks the bartender passed over.

“No.” Ginny nodded in David’s direction. “His picture is going to be all over the paper tomorrow for nothing. All those jealous fan girls.”

“And guys.”

“And guys.” Ginny conceded. “They’ll dig up all the dirt on him they can. ‘Does this pauper deserve our precious hero?’”

Harry hummed.

“And you’ll never  floo him again.”

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. Because, god help him, she was right.

******

There were more lovely lies in the  _ Prophet _  the next day.

_ “Potter Finally Moving On!” _

Harry wasn’t moving on. Harry was worse off than ever. Bloody Ginny.

They’d been nice to David, at least. There was nothing nefarious to find because Ginny was right. The man was boring. So, they’d gone with the happily ever after angle instead. The  _ Prophet _  had Harry and David a few steps away from walking down the aisle.

“I don’t understand, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “You aren’t going out again because he’s nice?”

“Just think about it, ok,” Harry said. “Ginny is, you know, Ginny. You don’t mess with her. She’s tough. And Snape, well.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I am just better off with a certain, you know, type.”

“You want me to find someone that will insult you?” Hermione’s jaw clenched.

“Well, no, of course not.” Harry didn’t fancy her setting him up again at all. “But I think I need someone...feisty.”

Hermione’s face twisted. “Harry, I know you grew up surrounded by drama and violence, and, and, well, general unpleasantness, but you don’t have to settle with that forever.”

“I know. And I don’t think I am. All things considered, Severus was good to me, right?” Harry waited until Hermione nodded in agreement. “He, you know, took care of me, but he wasn’t a pushover. And I took care of him too. And he understood where I was coming from.”

Hermione turned her head, her brow creased and lips pinched.

“We were both grump veterans.” Harry batted at Hermione’s arm. “I just-I don’t know. I don’t think David and I are actually a good match.”

“Alright.” Hermione crossed her arms tightly.

“Ginny was wrong about one thing though.”

“What?”

“I am going to floo him and let him know.”

“Oh, god.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “Of course, you are.”

Harry’s lips tugged up at the corners.

“You’re not a monster. You’re only attracted to them, apparently.”

Harry scowled at her and she smiled.

******

Finding the identities of the three suspects from the CCTV tapes had been harder than Harry expected. The investigation into the first guy had been fruitless. They’d tracked him  down, but had found nothing that caused them to think he had anything to do with the murders. The second suspect was a wizard that had gone into seclusion at the end of the wat, like many did (distrust of the Ministry was rampant); they were still working on an address for the man. Harry had pinned down the name of the third suspect just that morning. She was a witch, working as a delivery person for a specialty robe maker.

“She probably just delivering something for the tailor.” Ron scanned the paperwork on the woman, Sue Reager.

Harry stood up from his desk and smoothed out his red  auror robes. “Yeah. Let’s go to her house.”

“It’s Tuesday. She’s probably at work.” Ron tossed the parchment back onto Harry’s desk.

Harry rolled it up properly and stuck it in one of his robe pockets. “Maybe.” He looked at Ron. “Still come with me?”

Ron pulled a face. “There’s nothing in there,” Ron waved his hand at Harry’s robes, “to indicate she had a motive. She didn’t lose any one in the war. She didn’t even take a side.”

“She still needs to be questioned.”

“I think we need to work more on finding that second guy.”

“I’m still going to question her.” 

“You do that.” Ron walked with Harry towards the lifts. “After lunch, we’ll go talk to her boss at the shop on  Diagon . That’s probably where she’ll be anyway.”

Harry sighed. “Fine.”

Thirty minutes later, Harry was walking up a gravel path, alone. The house at the end was small, but homey. Flowerpots lined the dark windows. A few wind chimes broke the silence that surrounded the property. Harry knocked on the heavy door, not expecting much. He couldn’t feel and wards beyond the usual. When no one answered, Harry decided to walk around to the back of the property. It really was nice. Private and well-kept. It reminded Harry of he and Severus’ place.

_ His place.  _ Harry bit his cheek.  _ His place. _

He leaned over to examine a strange little garden ornament, a gnome, maybe. It was wearing a strange bit of jewelry.

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Harry’s wand flew from his wrist holder. 

Bloody fuck. 

He slammed his eyes shut. Adrenaline sang through his veins and pumped out of his lungs in sharp pants.

Fucking hell. 

He turned slowly, his muscles tight and tense, to find a smug looking woman examining his wand.

She grinned. “I’m assuming you aren’t here to make a social call,  Auror Potter.”

Harry tilted his head in agreement. He tried to summon the wand back, but once she realized what he was doing, Reager (had to be her, had to be) secured it in her robes.

She was a small girl. He could take her down the Muggle way. Harry contemplated the most effective first move. Go for the knees, the eyes, it’d been a while since he-

Then the curse hit him.

His lungs burned as all his breath left him. Harry gulped, he couldn’t pull more air in, and the effort only made the burning intensify. Harry collapsed slowly to his hands and knees, the world going grey around the edges. He fell over to his back. Hot tears pushed through his scrunched eyelids.

“I never thought I’d get this close to you, Potter. Never dreamed.”

Then all at once the air rushed back in, his lungs inflated too fast, and Harry’s eyes shot open. He coughed and sputtered. He’d never felt anything like it. He panted, and  it bloody hurt. He rolled and made to get up, but was kicked back down.

“I was quick with the others.” Through a foggy haze, Harry saw her wand, much closer now, and directed at his heart. “But, I think, for the Dark Lord, I will go slow with you.”

Harry closed his eyes.

“ _ Crucio _ .”

Fire rushed through his veins and teased at his nerve endings. Harry twitched against it, clenching his jaw against a scream. When she let  up he pants, his lungs burned doubly from the effects of both curses, and he made every effort to relax his muscles for the next round.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” she circled around him, “if I killed you with one of Snape’s curses?”

Not particularly. Harry tried again to roll over. To what end, he didn’t know.

“I know one. A good one. Do you think it would make Snape cry?”

She hit him again with Crucio, harder; details blurred and became irrelevant at that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, bookmarked, and given kudos! I will try to update this weekend, if I don't get a chance to finish editing the next chapter, I will be back with it on Monday :)


	6. Chapter 6

The unmistakably sterile hospital smell assailed him, and Harry knew he was waking up in St Mungo’s.

A breath caught in his throat and tears burned beneath his lids as gratitude for whatever entity in the universe saved him flooded every neuron in his brain. 

“I’m going to murder Ronald Weasley.”

Severus.

Harry opened his eyes, faster than was probably safe for his sensitive pupils. He turned his head and everything swam a bit. 

Severus’ next words floated into his ears. “Very, very slowly, I think.”

The tears built and he blinked to keep them in, but all he accomplished was pushing them out. The black blur that was Severus leaned forward and wiped them away.

“’s not his fault.” Harry croaked out.

Severus grunted. He sat back in his chair and looked at Harry. Harry looked back, Severus slowly coming into focus, or as focused as Severus would get without Harry wearing his glasses. He wanted to reach out, but didn’t dare, knowing his muscles and nerves were likely wrecked. Everything felt pleasantly light at the moment; he didn’t want to lose that.

“Of course,” Severus said. “You were an idiot as well.”

Harry pressed his lips together.

“Why on earth would you go after a serial murderer alone?”

“Didn’t think it was her.”

Harry just held back a coughing fit, his throat still thick from something, either disuse or screaming, depending on how long he’d been lying here. Severus summoned over a glass of water and a straw and helped Harry drink it.

When he was done, Harry stared some more. His mouth lifted at the corners. “You’re here.”

Severus turned his head to scowl at the door. “I brought you potions.”

“You brought me potions.”

“The stuff here is rubbish.”

“You make stuff here.”

“I make Wolfsbane here.”

“Well, this potion is nice.” Harry did feel pretty okay. Swimmy, tired, and a bit detached, but quite good, considering. He squinted. “You’re not a hallucination, are you?”

Severus crossed his legs and leant a cheek against his fingers. “No.”

“That is exactly what a hallucination of Severus would say.”

Severus shook his head. “You, Potter, are very high.”

“I did say the potions are nice.” Harry smiled and fought against the need to close his eyes. “’m pretty sure absolutely everything would hurt right now without them.”

“Oh, most definitely.” Severus leant forward and placed a hand on Harry’s face. HIs fingers pushed a few wayward strands behind Harry’s ear, lightly brushing against the shell; while his thumb rested lightly on Harry’s cheekbone. “Go back to sleep, Harry.”

Tears leaked out again. “I’m alive.” He choked out, his eyes dragging down. That thumb ran once more along his cheekbone. Harry’s eyes gave in and he drifted off to sleep.

******

When Harry woke up again, muscles, nerves, organs, and everything else had begun to ache.

And Ron had replaced Severus in the chair at his bedside.

“You back with us?”

Harry sighed, and even that hurt. “Unfortunately.”

Ron’s mouth twisted to the side and he ran a knuckle against the bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, mate.”

“Yeah.” Harry looked around, eyes adjusting to the light. He felt much more coherent this time.

Ron handed him his glasses and said, “I quit.”

Harry blinked a few times. “Quit what?” A cold chill ran across his nerves. “Wait. No.” He looked at Ron, Ron looked steadily back. “You didn’t?”

Ron drew in a breath. “I did. I quit.”

Harry stared.

“I almost got you killed. And I am so sorry. Just so damn sorry.” Ron sniffed, turned his head, and cleared his throat. “For this, and just not being there lately. Severus already yelled at me, and Robards, but you can too, obviously. I should have gone with you to question Reager.”

“Ron, you can’t quit.”

“I can. And, well, honestly, I’m relieved.” Ron shrugged, his shoulders slumping. “My heart’s not been in this lately, and I mean, yeah, I should have gone with you, being partners and all, but I am also so bloody glad that I didn’t.”

“Yeah, okay.” The pain that lanced its way across all of Harry’s vital bits made him wish he hadn’t gone either. “I can...understand that, sure.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Ron held up placating hands. “See, I got Rose now, you know, and Hermione and  me are trying for another baby.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.  So she could be pregnant right now.” Ron shook his head. “If I died out there, because of some  nutter ...” Ron shrugged. “I just can’t do that to them.”

Harry took that in. He understood. He did. More body parts were waking up now though, and everything really did  fucking hurt.  Harry looked around the room again and out the door.

“And I’ve been wanting to work with George at the shop,” Ron continued. “I’ve been getting into his research and what not lately. And I am a whiz at the marketing stuff.”

Harry squirmed against a sudden burning in his shoulder. God. “Where’s Severus?”

“Oh.” Ron pulled his top lip between his teeth. “He left a while ago.”

“I need potions, Ron.”

“Yeah, they didn’t let him leave anything. You  gotta make duo with the St Mungo’s stuff, mate.”

“He gave me his earlier.” The shifting about was not helping the pain so Harry tried a different tact and held his muscles perfectly still. “Fuck. I can’t even remember what she did to me.”

“Nasty stuff.” Ron stood up. “The healer got miffed when she heard that Severus had switched out their potions for his. It goes against regulation and all that.”

Harry groaned, and twitched, giving up on Plan B.

“It must be time for another dose, Harry. Let me see if I can find the mediwitch.”

Harry wished Severus hadn’t left. Part of him couldn’t believe, or just didn’t want to believe, that he had. It wasn’t just about the potions. Harry thought something had passed between them. Severus had touched him and soothed him. Harry had missed that simple intimacy, just being comforted by a partner. They had struggled to reach such easy affection, Severus reluctant to show his jugular to anyone and Harry unused to intimacy in relationships. It left them both feeling vulnerable and open, not states that either were comfortable with, especially Severus. But they’d done it. They’d pulled down those walls together, brick by brick.

Ron returned, looking apologetic. “They said you’re due in a bit. Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Harry nodded against his pillow. “Distract me. Tell me what happened.”

“Right.” Ron settled into the chair. “Well, I didn’t think you’d take that long at Reager’s. I thought she wouldn’t even be there, you know? So, when lunch rolled around and you still weren’t back, I knew something was up. I took White and Dixon, and we came after you.”

Harry cringed; close to two hours must have passed before anyone came looking for him.

“She was a total  nutter , Harry,” Ron continued. “When we got there, you were already out. There was so much blood that for a moment I thought-” Ron swallowed. “I don’t...Do you want me to tell you all the spells she used?”

“No.” Harry clenched his fists in the bed sheets. “Just tell me what they treated me for.”

“Crucio, mostly. But that cutting spell Snape used to slice George’s ear off, too. And a few broken ribs. Those were the biggies.”

“What’d she cut?” Harry made a quick assessment that all his parts were in place.

“Into your shoulder. She wasn’t very good at it. It was like she was trying to cut your arm off with a butter knife.”

“Nice.”

“Evidently, she was really persistent. They fixed it up though.”

“I don’t remember anything past the second Crucio.”

“That’s probably a good thing.”

Harry grunted.

“But you still have Snape listed as your next of kin, so Mungo’s contacted him as soon as you were admitted.”

Harry perked up at that.

Ron smirked. “He came in like a bloody hurricane, mate.”

Harry laughed, sending pain shooting across every inch of skin, but the warmth blooming in his chest negated it well enough.

“Just yelling and stomping about. Nothing was fast enough or good enough,” Ron said, sobering. “I genuinely thought he’d murder me. ‘What kind of useless, fucking partner are you, Weasley?’” Ron’s impression of Severus had only gotten better over the years. “He stayed for a few hours, ‘til you were patched up and stable.”

“How long have a been here?” Harry only now noted that Ron wasn’t in his  auror robes.

“Four days now.”

“Merlin.”

“Yeah.”

“He sat with you for a long while too.” Ron leaned forward, elbows to knees. “He said you woke up and seemed just as coherent as usual.” Harry huffed out a laugh. “But when I came in you were out like a light. They gave him shit about the potions switching. He argued with the healers about it until Robards made him leave.”

The door to his room opened and a  mediwitch bustled in with a tray of potions. A healer, distracted with a ream of parchment, followed behind.

“ Auror Potter,” the healer announced. Ron stood and moved out of the way of the  mediwitch . “Good to see you awake.”

“We may have to disagree on that one.”

She chuckled. “Well, let’s see if these potions bring you round to my side.”

******

The healer explained everything to Harry, in detail. He had to stay one more night for observation, but she assured him that he would make a full recovery.

Robards came later and explained that Reager really was mentally unstable. Evidently, little birds were telling her to avenge the Dark Lord and his servants. Since this was the Wizarding World and not the muggle, Harry asked if they were sure the birds  _ hadn’t _ been speaking to her. But, evidently, Reager also believed that the gnome in her garden was Merlin. They would  look into the birds claims anyway, just in case.

Harry hobbled home the next morning. His house was cold and empty. He thought about starting a fire, but just thinking about it exhausted him. He slowly, gently collapsed into bed and stared at the ceiling, willing his mind to ignore the pain that still radiated from his shoulder and the aches still cramping up all of his muscles.

Harry didn’t move even when the  floo whooshed to life some time later. If it was someone coming to finish him off, then bully for them and please hurry. If it was someone coming to nurse him, hopefully they brought better potions.

The latter seemed more likely when Severus pushed into his bedroom.

Pleased and shocked, Harry stared, one side of his mouth tugging upwards.

Severus held up a Tesco bag and walked over to the bed. “I brought potions.”

Harry shut his eyes. “Oh, thank god.”

“You’re welcome.”

The bed dipped and Harry opened his eyes. Severus peered down at him, a stiff, unreadable expression on his face. He looked ready to spring right back up. Harry reached out and encircled a slender wrist.

Severus’ brow creased. “Your fingers are freezing, Potter.” He put the bag down on the side table and stood back up. Harry watched as Severus dashed around the room; he started a fire, summoned comfortable clothes, and fetched a quilt. Warmth bloomed in Harry’s core and it wasn’t from the fire. It was imperative for Harry to entice the man to stay here now, in their home, where he belonged. 

“Severus.” He waited until the man turned to face him, a single eyebrow raised. “I’m starving.” He wasn’t.

But Severus flew out of the room just the same. Harry stood and changed into the flannel bottoms and cotton top Severus had wrangled up. He was sorting and arranging the potions on his bedside table when Severus came back in with a sandwich, some soup, and a bottle of water.

Harry sat and gestured to the potions. “Thanks.”

Severus grunted and handed off the water. He set the food on the side table before dragging a chair over from the closet. Harry wanted to banish the chair and force Severus to on the bed again.

“Weasley should be here.”

“Rose is  sick and Hermione is at some conference in Sydney. Or Salem. I can’t remember.”

“This is his fault.”

“It’s really not.” Harry smiled and took a bite of his ham and cheese. The soup looked like it came from a tin. Probably a remnant from when Severus had lived here. Severus was rubbish at eating properly. “Everything fucking hurts.”

Severus pressed his fingers together,  steepling them under his chin, and watched Harry eat. Harry watched him right back, delighted and curious.

“Really, though, thank you for bringing the potions. The stuff they sent me home with barely touches the pain.”

“I knew you wouldn’t bother to procure the proper potions. Always the martyr, forever wallowing in your misery.”

Harry’s face twisted at that; it’d been a while since that relic had been thrown at him. “Nice, Severus.”

Severus’ hand twitched and came down to rest on the arms of the chair. Even he had to have known that was a useless jab. 

“You promised to be nice to me, remember?”

“This is me nice.”

Harry tilted his head and let the set of his mouth show what he thought of that.

“Fine.” Severus sighed, put upon. He crossed his legs one way, and then another. Harry finished his sandwich and picked up the soup. Severus drummed his fingers quickly against the fabric of the chair. Harry sniffed at the soup. Severus made a noise of pure frustration. “I can’t believe you would be that  _ stupid _ and  _ reckless _ . It is absolutely  _ inconceivable _ , after everything you have been through, that you would be willing to throw your life away without care.”

Harry placed the soup bowl on the table. He hadn’t been that hungry to begin with.

“She could have  _ killed  _ you.” Severus stood up. “You are only twenty-five, Harry.  _ Twenty-five.” _

Harry nodded, twisting the cap off the water and watching Severus stamp from one side of the bedroom to the other. Watching Severus blow off steam this way and so damn familiar. Harry’s gut clenched with want and nostalgia and love.

Severus continued on, reminding Harry of his mortality and fragility, of his stupidity and brashness, of the importance of forethought and attentiveness. Harry downed the appropriate potions, drank his water, settled in under the sheets of their bed and the quilt Severus had found, and watched and listened as Severus let it all out. The potions washed over him like, like, like something brilliant. Harry’s thoughts were beginning to muddle.

“Stop bloody  _ smiling,  _ Potter.” Severus threw himself back down in the chair and huffed out a breath. He looked at the side table and then back at Harry. He asked, sharply, his fit ebbing now, “Did you take the potions you needed?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not hungry anymore.”

“No. ‘m good.”

Severus settled back in the chair. “Not thirsty.”

“No, still have some water.” Harry extracted the bottle from the sheets.

“I’m still very upset.”

“’m gathering.”

******

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“I think, maybe, yes.”

“Harry, he must still love you.”

Harry grinned at Hermione.

“But maybe not in the way you want.”

Harry’s grin vanished.

“Don’t do that.” She adjusted the sunshade with her wand. ‘"He still ended things. If he was happy, he wouldn’t have done.”

“Right.” Point for Hermione, he guessed. “Fine.”

“It’s normal for him to still care. He’s known you for all of your twenty-five years, five of them intimately.” She picked up her drink from the table beside her but didn’t bring it to her lips. “And you’d both worked so hard at it. You’d made a nice life together.” 

Harry looked out over the garden. It was a lovely summer day. Not so hot their clothes would stick to them, but hot enough that Rose was gleefully playing in a little wading pool.

“I was always a bit jealous, actually,” Hermione said. Harry turned his head back to Hermione, catching her blushing. “Sometimes I’d wished Ron put in as much effort as Severus.”

“Hermione...”

“No. It’s fine.” Hermione sipped her lemonade. “He’s been much more present since Rose was born.”

“Right.” Harry agreed. She looked over at him. “You really do look much better. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know.” Hermione smiled. “I would have been a most unwelcome third wheel.”

Harry smiled back then shook his head. “I just want to shake him, you  know? I really do think that something is still there. I know it’s there for me. If it wasn’t there for him, I really don’t think he would bother with me.”

Rose drunkenly ambled up to Harry. She chittered away incomprehensively and flapped a flower around under Harry’s nose. “Hello, Rose. One too many juice boxes, my dear?” He looked to Hermione for guidance. “Translate, please?”

Hermione leaned forward. “Such a pretty flower, Rosie.” She looked at Harry significantly.

“Oh.” Harry grinned at the curly-headed toddler. “Yes, very pretty.”

Rose said something that could have been ‘smell’ and very nearly shoved the flower up Harry’s nostril. He took a dramatic sniff. “Oh, very nice, indeed.” Harry pulled back. “You should let  mummy have a go.”

Rose crawled into Hermione’s lap and pushed the flower against her nose. Hermione reacted as all mums do, with exaggerated enthusiasm and awe. Harry grinned at them both.

“So,” Harry ventured. “I didn’t think to ask Ron, but we’re you upset with him for quitting.”

Hermione looked chagrinned. “No.” She put Rose down to wander back to her pool. “I knew it was coming. He hasn’t been happy for a while.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair.

“We’d talked about him going to work for George. And, technically,” Hermione said. “You two are still partners.”

Harry gave her an unimpressed look. He got a quarterly earnings report and occasional R&D projections for WWW; he wasn’t actively involved otherwise. 

“Are you upset?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Harry said. “Not really.” And if he was completely honest, “I am not that surprised either, actually.”

Hermione lifted her brow.

“He’d seemed...disenchanted with the job lately.”

“He still should have gone with you to interview that woman.”

“I suppose.” Harry watched Rose jump up and down in the water, giggling madly. “Severus said the same.”

Ginny apparated in at the back gate, still looking svelte and lovely. She was barely showing at all. She went straight over to give Rose a hello.

“This could be the start of a very fulfilling friendship,” Hermione said.

“With Severus Snape?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, watching Ginny and Rose splash water at each other. “Victor Krum and I had a lovely correspondence after we broke up.”

Harry could almost see it. He would never call it lovely, or fulfilling, frustrating maybe, but he could never imagine his life completely devoid of Severus Snape.

“You know.” Hermione’s lips thinned. “Maybe you should ask him, the next time you see him. Just ask him what happened before and what he wants now.”

Because then he would know what Harry wanted. “I promised to stay away from him, remember?”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “And that’s just ridiculous. And maybe that is your answer right there.”

Ginny pulled a chair over and sat down next to Hermione.

“Why did he come to see me in hospital then?” Harry bit his bottom lip. “And why did he come to the house?”

“I don’t know, Harry.” Hermione clipped out. “Just ask him, then you’ll know.”

“It’d be like ripping off a plaster.” Harry shrugged. “I haven’t wanted to bring it up.” Harry looked at his lap. “I see him so rarely, when I do, I don’t want to risk chasing him away.”

“With your completely valid questions? Merlin, you’re worse than teenagers,” Hermione said. “If you are going to be so immature maybe you shouldn’t bother at all then.”

“Hermione.”

“And I take back what I said earlier. I’m not jealous at all.”

“You know what I think?” Ginny interjected. “I think he got scared you’d leave him, and he cut his losses and left you first.”

“That is ridiculous,” Harry said. “He knows that I wouldn’t leave him.”

“Does he?” Ginny said, and Hermione chewed at the side of her lip. “You did leave me for him.”

“That,” Harry said, flustered. “That is not the same at all.”

“No?”

“Severus and I were happy. You and I were miserable.”

“I wasn’t miserable.”

“Of course, you were.” Harry gaped and shook his head. “We fought, constantly.”

Ginny shrugged. “I always thought of it as our way of working through things. You are always so dense about emotions and you’re never eager to share.” Ginny summoned a glass over and filled it from the carafe. “But when you were angry, you’d just shout out the things that were bothering you.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, god. She’s right, you know.” Hermione gasped. “Oh my god. I bet Severus is the same, probably worse.”

Harry blinked, and blinked again. “He’s a bit reticent-”

“Severus is much more aware, though. He had to be, from the spying,” Ginny interrupted. “He probably dissected every moment- every emotion that flicked across your face. And, Harry, you had no idea. He’d already decided you’d screw things up and-”

“Sod off.” Harry crossed his arms, his shoulder tweaking a bit still with the sharp motion. “Severus is not afraid to tell me when I misstep or when I am pissing him off.”

“No, you both have anger down pat,” Ginny said. “But insecurity?  Vulnerability ? Wanting? There, you are both helpless.”

Harry refused to believe it was something as simple and ridiculous as all that. 


	7. Chapter 7

Out of all of the members of the new generation of Weasleys, Harry was most attached to Rose. He attributed it more to proximity than anything else. He simply saw her more often. Before Rose, Harry had never spent much time with babies or kids. The Dursleys hadn’t let him out much, and there weren’t any little kids at Hogwarts. Harry saw Teddy as often as he could, but by the time the War was done, the dust settled, and Harry was finally able to spend time with his godson, Teddy had already been walking and talking for months. With Rose, he’d been there for everything. He’d watched Hermione grow. He’d held Rose the day she was born. He’d had a front row seat to her life thus far.  

He also babysat more often for Ron and Hermione than he did for Andromeda or anyone else. 

“Daddy will be done playing with Uncle George very soon, Rosie Posie.” Hary jiggled her against his hip. “While we’re waiting, do you want to look at the owls or play with the Quidditch brooms?” 

Rose made a sound like a poorly cast caterwauling charm.  

“I agree.” Harry nodded once. “Definitely the brooms.” 

September first had just passed and things in Diagon Alley were ramping down, as much as they ever did at any rate. Diagon Alley never really lacked for people. 

Ever mindful while out in public spaces, Harry spotted Severus window browsing outside Slug and Jiggers with enough time to avoid him if he so desired. He absolutely did not desire that though, and Harry made a beeline right for the man. It was embarrassing, really.  

Severus, equally mindful, saw Harry coming from a bit off. He looked put out, but didn’t make any move to flee.  

“Hello,” Harry greeted. “Nice to see you.” Harry smiled. 

“Potter.” Severus returned the greeting if not the smile. He eyed Rose, one eyebrow rising. Rose smiled and ducked her head into Harry’s neck. 

“Oh.” Harry stuck out the hip Rose was propped on. “You haven’t seen Rose since she was all wrinkly and new.” Harry chuckled, lightly, awkwardly. “Rose, say, ‘Hi, Severus.’” Harry took her hand and waved it at Severus. 

Rose made a sibilant sound, like a snake, before giving up and giving a raspberry instead. 

Severus’ face scrunched together in a mix of disappointment, disgust, and confusion. 

“Yeah. I never understand a bloody thing she says.” Harry wiped the slobber from her mouth with the sleeve of his robe. He looked over at Severus, not entirely sure what to say, but needing the man not to leave. “Thank you, again, for the potions.” 

“Of course.” Severus’ eyes skittered over Harry. “You’re looking well.” 

“Yup. All healed.” 

Severus nodded and started to step away. 

“We were going to get ice cream,” Harry said quickly before pressing his lips together.  

Severus cocked his head to one side, but stayed one step away. 

“Would you like to join us?” Harry swallowed. “Maybe?” 

Severus looked back at Rose. “I don’t think babies are supposed to eat ice cream.” Rose babbled at him; he lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“Aren’t they?” 

Severus gave him a dubious look before turning back to Rose’s babbling. “Where are her parents?” 

“Work.” Harry shifted Rose to his other hip. “Ron’s at George’s shop now.” 

Severus grunted. 

“Will you?” Harry said. 

“Will I what?” 

“Have ice cream with us.” 

The standard baleful look, Harry was long since impervious to it at this point. Severus said, “You can likely figure that one out on your own, Potter.” 

“Severus, I _know_ that you like ice cream.” 

“I will not be seen eating it in Diagon Alley.” 

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come-” 

A rather round, older witch interrupted Harry and pushed a finger into his face while eyeing Severus. “Harry Potter, you best not be cheating on that nice young man from the paper.” 

Harry stared at her, dumbstruck. Rose jabbered at the woman and shook a fist, sending her strawberry curls bouncing. Severus laughed, quickly and with not a small amount of irritation, enough to snap Harry out of his shock. 

Harry wrapped his free arm around Rose, pulling her more tightly against him. “I don’t actually think that’s any of your business.” 

“You deserve to be happy, Harry Potter. You won’t be if you keep bouncing back to this,” she pointed at Severus, “this, this man.” 

The fucking audacity of some people. “Right. Definitely not your business.” 

Severus sneered and took a step forward, crowding towards Harry and Rose. 

The woman made an aggrieved face and touched Harry’s forearm delicately. “Please, child.” 

Harry felt the words building up, ready to lash out at this bloody busybody of a stranger. But Severus interceded with a brusque, “Enough.” He wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled him away from the woman. They marched together down the street and around a corner. Once they were far enough away, they stepped to the side, out of the way. 

Anger pumped through Harry’s veins, the adrenaline of it made his hands shake. “Can you believe that?” Afraid he might drop Rose, he handed her off to Severus. “What makes people think they have the bloody right?” He fisted his hands into his hair and tugged. 

“People never change, Potter.” 

“Gossiping over the breakfast table is one thing.” Harry gestured harshly back in the direction they’d come from. “Accosting me in the street while I am holding my goddaughter and talking to my-” Harry took in the sight before him, Severus, all scowls, black robes, and pale skin, holding a sunshine-y, smiling, sticky toddler on his hip, and a smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s mouth. He shook his head. “Look at you two.” 

Severus pressed his lips together. Rose smiled wide and chattered at Severus. Severus turned to her, speaking evenly, he said, “I have no idea what you are saying.” 

Rose made more noise in response and Harry chuckled. 

They’d ended up outside of Gordon’s, the shop that had replaced Fortescue’s after the War, but Harry didn’t have much appetite for ice cream at the moment. It had been a stupid idea anyhow. 

Severus shifted Rose to his other hip. “How does such a tiny thing weigh so much?” 

“My theory is that she carries it in her hair.” 

Severus grunted and tilted his chin up at the storefront. “Won’t your ‘newspaper boyfriend’ disapprove?” 

Harry, having followed Severus’ line of sight, replied, “Of you eating ice cream? I doubt it.” 

Severus sent a glare his way before quickly turning back to Rose. 

“No. Well.” Harry shook his head. “Maybe. But mostly because I broke up with him.” 

Severus stilled. “Why did you do that?” 

Harry smiled, reconsidering. “Have ice cream with us and I’ll tell you.” 

Severus looked at Harry. “Tell me now and maybe I will.” 

Harry’s teeth gnawed at the side of his bottom lip. “He was boring.” 

“Boring.” 

“Yes.” Rose took Severus’ face between her pudgy hands and Harry wished for a camera. Maybe the _Prophet_ had some sneaky person snapping away somewhere. “Dull as dishwater.” 

Severus hummed, still looking at Rose. “Must I really eat ice cream?” 

“Would you if I asked?” Harry scoffed when Severus didn’t reply. “No. I’m not actually hungry right now anyway.”  

Severus gently pried one of Rose’s hands from his cheek. He held it between his thumb and forefingers and looked at it. Harry could have sworn Severus’d squeezed at the chubbiness of it a bit. Rose released his other cheek and nestled her head into Severus’ neck. Harry swallowed, jealously and awe and sadness warring in his gut. “I could make you dinner though.” 

Severus’ eyes shot toward Harry. 

“I could tell you all about it then,” Harry said. “If you are really curious.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” Severus let go of Rose’s hand. He clenched the now free hand into a fist before moving forward suddenly and handing Rose back off to Harry. Rose let her displeasure at the jostling be known. Severus’ jaw tightened and Harry didn’t know whom to placate first. 

Annoyance overruled in the end. “It’s not that bad of a bloody idea, Severus.” 

“Potter-” 

“And stop Potter-ing me, for god’s sake.” 

Harry could almost hear all the walls slamming up around Severus. “I will call you whatever I please.” 

“Of course.” Harry rolled his eyes. Rose squirmed hard in his arms. “Don’t come ‘round and lecture me anymore then.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” Harry licked his lips. “If we can’t even be friends, then don’t bother at all, okay.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine,” Harry added again, forcefully. Severus pulled back, crossing his arms, and looking coolly around. Harry winced at who might have seen that, but didn’t actually care much at the moment. He added one more, “Fine,” feeling angry and defeated and hollow. 

“Good,” Severus said, and it felt like a punch to the gut. 

“Good?” Harry wanted to shake him and shake him and shake him. He stepped into Severus’ space. “I’ve changed my mind.” 

Severus’ brow drew together. “About?” 

“I told you about David.” 

Severus’ teeth clicked. 

“Now I want my ice cream.” 

Severus scoffed and looked at the store. 

“Not here.” Harry bounced Rose and with a sharp hand gesture brushed the store off. “Have dinner with me. At ours.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” Severus opened his mouth but Harry cut him off with a raised finger and repeated, “Yes. You owe me.” 

Severus narrowed his eyes, ran tongue over his top teeth, and looked off down the alley. “Fine.” 

“You’re are going to have a good time.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, you love my cooking.” 

Severus grunted. 

 

****** 

It actually was a terrible idea. 

Harry pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and looked over the mess that was now his kitchen. He’d been annoyed and angry and a bit confused in Diagon Alley. He was tired of Severus’ mercurial temperament. Not the grumpiness, which was completely in character, but the indecision. Severus knew what he wanted, always, he either went for it or he conceded it for whatever reason, but he never wavered as he’d been doing, giving a shit one moment and not the next. 

Ginny might well be right. Harry had missed something. Possibly something he could fix. So, he had thought he could corner the man with a dinner, lull him into a sense of security, and just ask, flat out. He’d prepare Severus’ favorite meal, pair it with a perfect wine, make their house homey and welcoming, be charming and sarcastic, and basically wrangle the man into submission. 

Unfortunately, he had run late at work, forgot to pick up the wine, rushed through prepping dinner, and had no time to clean the house. He was magically stirring gravy while flipping chicken cutlets when he heard the whoosh of the floo.  

Never late, especially when it would have been incredibly convenient, Severus had arrived right on time. Harry quickly muttered spells to get as much of the flour and whatnot off his jeans as he could. 

Severus’ familiar step reached Harry’s ears. His heart plummeted into his stomach, terrified and eager to turn around and finally see the man back in their home, but Severus did not pause long enough. He crossed the kitchen and immediately started helping Harry. 

“When you invited me to dinner, I hadn’t thought I’d be preparing my own food.” 

Harry grimaced. “Sorry, yeah.” He blew a few stray, sweaty strands from his eyes. “Work.” 

Severus nodded and stirred, long since used to the excuse. Harry spelled the knife to set to work on the salad components and turned his full attention to the chicken. They’d cooked together often enough that not much needed to be said in order to coordinate their efforts. 

When they had lived together, Harry had always cooked for them. Severus could never be bothered. Potions and cooking weren’t so far removed that he was bad at it; Severus had just never had the opportunity or motivation to learn. He had grown up without much to eat, gone to Hogwarts where meals were prepared for him, and then worked at Hogwarts where, again, everything was done for him. Since the War ended, Harry’d been the one keeping him well fed. Harry had learned to cook a bit at the Dursleys, but the bulk of his knowledge came from Molly Weasley. Helping Mrs Weasley in the kitchen had allowed Harry to escape Ginny during their tumultuous relationship (Ginny saw cooking as something to be avoided). Molly had also presented a soothing outlet for the post-War chaos that had been Harry’s thoughts. 

“Ron’s quit and I have this useless new partner. And I’m still catching up on all the paperwork from before my medical leave.” Harry checked the bread rolls in the oven. “Now, I have this trial to prepare for on top of it.” 

“We could postpone this.” Severus offered. “Oh, or cancel altogether.” 

“Stop.” Harry warned, jokingly. “This isn’t a terrible idea. This is a great idea.” 

“Is it?” 

“One of my best, Severus. You’re having a fabulous time.” 

“Am I?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Severus hummed. “What moron have they recruited to be your new partner?” 

“Lewis.” Harry’s brow furrowed. “Something Lewis.” 

“Marcus?” Severus tilted his head; Harry shook his. “Patrick?” 

“He’s blond.” Harry stuck a bite of carrot in his mouth. Severus wrinkled his nose as Harry continued talking around the vegetable. “’avenclaw, I think.” 

“Not Hamish.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, I think.” 

“He’s a child.” 

“Fresh from the academy.” 

“Unbelievable,” Severus said, barely audible over the sounds of the simmering food. 

“He’s not that much younger than me.” Harry knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as he’d said it. Severus pressed his lips together and knocked the stirring spoon hard against the edge of the pot. 

Harry quickly shifted the subject back. “Then there’s the new program Robards wants me to work on setting up.” 

“More work.” Severus jaw tightened. This too felt incredibly familiar, but not in a pleasant way. 

Harry worked. He worked a lot. He worked when they needed him and when they didn’t. He loved his job. After the War, Severus had mellowed. The double agent withdrew, avoided commitments, and worked on his own research. He had eventually, in the name of public spiritedness (because being shacked up with Harry Potter made him a common target for the likes of Rita Skeeter), taken on the Wolfsbane at Mungo’s. But The fact that Harry had continued to work for _the people_  had never ceased to be a point of exasperation for Severus. Every now and then it descended into a nasty row.  

 _Hadn’t Harry given enough to this accursed population? Could they not fight evil without him, on occasion? Couldn’t Harry be boring and safe and not bloody in bloody danger for the span of a few weeks?_  

Harry knew it was because Severus, at his core, was a protector. He cared too much, was too protective, was too fearful of losing Harry. 

“Let’s stop talking about work,” Harry said, turning to give Severus a good once over. His hair looked clean and soft. The bags under his eyes still persisted, standing out against too pale skin. Black robes, loose and open, underneath them he wore snug black trousers and a black button up. He looked familiar and brilliant. 

Severus’ eyes flicked over, briefly; he shifted slightly, never one for Harry’s scrutiny. “Are you all healed then?” 

“Yes.” Harry smiled. He removed the chicken from the pan and placed it on a roll-lined plate. “Right as rain.” 

Severus knocked the stirring stick against the pot and placed it to the side while spelling the burner to simmer. He crossed his arms and turned away from the stove, letting his eyes linger over their cooking dinner for just a moment longer. When he finally turned, he looked resigned. He said, “I suppose you’ve let the garden go to hell.” 

Harry laughed, just once, a quick thing. “Ah,” he rubbed the back of his neck before nodding. “Well, yes.” 

“You’ve just spread flour all over your collar.” 

“Have I?” 

“It’s fine. You already have it everywhere else anyway.” Severus’ eyes ran down the length of him.  

Harry brushed at his clothes. 

“That’s not actually helping, you know?” 

Harry raised his hands and looked down at his well-dusted outfit. 

“Have you forgotten you’re a wizard?” 

“Yeah, all right. Just shut it now.” Harry felt the rush of Severus’ magic across his skin. He looked up, smiled. “Thank you. I had tried, before. I was distracted.” 

Severus hummed. 

“I am going to change and get properly cleaned up." Severus’ eyes didn’t leave him while he backed out of the kitchen.  

Harry smiled through a quick shower, while he brushed his teeth and his hair, and continued while he pulled on proper trousers and fastened his own buttons up. Fifteen minutes later, Harry emerged from the bedroom only to find the kitchen empty, the food ready and under the proper preservation charms. Harry panicked a bit when Severus wasn’t in either the living room or the office. Then he saw the man’s robes draped over a chair by the backdoor. Relief and affection had his smile rushing back when he spotted Severus out in the garden.  

Severus had his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. He was crouched amongst the greenery as he plucked and tended to their sad, little garden. Harry walked over, quietly, and stood at the edge, simply watching and remembering. 

“You were not kidding. This is terrible.” 

“I didn’t mean to let it get so bad.” 

Severus pivoted on his foot, still crouched, and raised an eyebrow. 

“It wasn’t willful.” 

Severus turned back to the garden and lifted a withered vine. It crumbled in his hand. Severus shook his head. He stood up in one smooth motion and brushed the soil from his long fingers. 

Harry bit the corner of his bottom lip. “I suppose you wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear that I forgot the wine too.” 

“Forgot?” 

Harry sighed. “Or that I didn’t have time.” 

“You’re right. I would not be.” He approached Harry; Harry’s pulse picked up. “I don’t suppose you still have the bottle of fire whiskey Hagrid gave us two Christmases back?” 

“Oh.” A bit too breathless, Harry cleared his throat. “I do.” 

Severus nodded. 

Harry smiled and they began making the trek back to the house. He had to reach a bit to match the man’s stride, but he managed it. He resisted the urge to accidently brush his hand against Severus’. Harry focused on their quiet breaths, almost in sync, as they climbed the small hill towards the porch. 

“We could eat outside.” They’d done it often enough over the years. The porch was charmed to never be too hot or cold. Severus had even put up some bug repellent charms. It was nice. “It’s been awhile since I ate out here.” 

Severus looked around, and then started moving furniture about. “That would be fine.” 

Harry brought out the dishes, cutlery, and whiskey. Severus helped him bring out the food. After a drink or two, the conversation flowed like it was old times. They’d always been keen banter partners, both being more than a little sarcastic and, Harry thought, more intelligent than most. Severus made him smarter, pushed him to think deeper. 

Severus pushed some potatoes around, swirling his fork in some absent pattern. “Did you hear Minerva had to fire the new Defense professor a week into the school year?” 

“No.” 

“I did warn her about him. She never listens to me.” 

Harry smiled. “I’ll listen. Tell me.” 

Severus’ lips pulled up in smirk. “The year was 1990.” He began, pretentiously. Harry chuckled and Severus continued, pleased with himself, “The weather that spring had been fair.” 

Harry put his fork down and pressed his mouth against the fingers of his loose fist, hiding his grin as Severus told him the most ridiculous story involving a recluse with a proclivity for geese and medieval weaponry. Severus, when he so desired, had a knack for storytelling. His hands moved fluidly, in constant motion, pulling you along through each twist and turn. His poker face was bar none, able to hold back the punch line until the ideal moment. 

Somewhere between Harry telling a story about a slightly mad wizard that tried to free all of the owls in Eeylops (something Hermione thought a bit noble) and Severus lamenting over Draco’s latest woes, they switched from whiskey to coffee. But it was like a wall had been broken. Not only did it sound like old times, but it _felt_ like old times. Harry felt like he could reach out and touch and take. And he wanted to, god, but he wanted to. 

“He didn’t even realise the man was a Muggle.” Severus shook his head, and Harry laughed. He tipped back his mug, finishing off the lukewarm dregs. 

“Do you want more coffee, Severus?” Harry stood. “Or anything else?” 

Severus rose from his place as well. “No, Potter, thank you.” He took out his wand and charmed all the dishes to follow them to the kitchen. 

Harry watched as they were all lowered into the sink. “Merlin, what a mess.” 

They fell into an old routine of washing, rinsing, and drying, of wiping and tidying. They fell into a silence that lacked the usual comfort though; an odd tension mantled the kichen instead. Harry wanted Severus to be thinking the same as him, of the times when this domesticity was followed by intimacy, the intimacy of proximity on the couch (the one Severus _stole_ ) or the intimacy of sleep rituals, or sex. 

Harry wanted to say so many things, but all that came out was, “This is nice.” He smiled. “Thanks for coming.” 

“If you will remember, Potter.” Severus leant against a now pristine counter. “I was obligated.” 

Harry swallowed, following the long lines of the man’s body up to his eyes. They locked on each other. “You and I both know you don’t actually have to be here, Severus. I don’t hold any power over you. Not really. Not anymore.” Harry shook his head. “Maybe not ever. Probably not ever.” 

Severus’ eyes unfocused and then moved to look past Harry. Harry didn’t know what to say, how to salvage this. Part of him didn’t want to. In a rush, he realised he didn’t want a friendship. He couldn’t go through these motions with this man. He wanted them to function as one again. He wanted all of it back. Not some mediocre second best. 

Severus hadn’t responded, hadn’t moved. Harry dove in. “Just tell me, Severus. Why?” 

The man’s brow wrinkled, he pulled himself to standing. “Why? Why, what?” 

Harry smiled to hold in the tears, the frustration. “Why did you le-” Harry’s voice cracked, he cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “-leave me, Severus?” 

Eyes still locked on some phantom point beyond Harry, Severus pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. “It felt kinder, at the time, to leave quickly, smoothly.” 

Harry laughed, a quick wet thing. “Kinder?” 

“Then saying I didn’t,” Severus met Harry’s eyes, “want to be here anymore.” 

Harry blinked, his vision blurring. He hoped Severus wasn’t still looking at him. He looked down towards his feet. “Oh.” 

“It happens. Things end, Harry.” 

“Don’t. Don’t c-” Harry bit his tongue. Looking down had been a bad idea, the tears had just pooled in the corners of his eyes. Harry sniffed. “Yeah. Yes. It does, I suppose.” 

“It was not any more complicated than that for me.” Severus continued. Harry listened, but everything was turning white, including the noises coming out of Severus’ mouth. 

“No, yeah, that’s pretty straightforward.” Harry’s muscles felt twitchy, and the muscles around his mouth twisted into something that resembled a smile. “How nice for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Severus said. He shifted on his feet and looked to the ground. “I imagine this is not how you envisioned this...” Harry laughed and stepped back. Severus’ eye moved back to his face. “...going.” 

“I didn’t have any,” Harry waved a hand around the kitchen, “any, any, you know.” Harry couldn’t _think_ . It was so simple though, of course. Harry had wanted it to be more complicated. He was looking for reasons and excuses, ways to fix it, if he was honest. For the last year, he’d tried to place meaning where there was none. He was just an idiot. Unwanted. Unneeded. _God_. “You should go, I think, Severus.” 

Severus seemed to hesitate, but he nodded. “That is probably best.” 

Harry waited until he heard the floo flare and die before he sank to the floor.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go...


	8. Chapter 8

Harry decided he hated his house. 

Of course, he did. He hadn’t chosen it. Severus had. He’d gone along with it. But really this wasn’t, it wasn’t- 

Harry hated this house. 

“I’m going to sell the house.” 

Hermione goggled at him. “What? Why?” 

“I hate this house.” Harry sank back in his chair and threw his feet up onto the table. 

“No, you don’t.” Hermione turned away to look across Harry’s garden; the wind caught a curl and pulled it away from its mates. “You love this house.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

Harry looked out to the garden, to where Severus had just days ago been crouched. Judgmental and annoying.  

“Why do you want to sell it?” 

“I told you.” Harry picked at the wood of his deck chair. “I hate it.” 

“Stop it.” Hermione huffed. “You don’t hate it.” 

“No, I do.” Harry didn’t want to elaborate. He didn’t want to give her room to pick apart his statement, his reasons, and convince him otherwise.  

Something tugged at the back of his mind with that last thought; he ignored it. 

“I hate this house.” 

Hermione sipped her coffee and tucked the hair back behind her ear. “Where will you go?” 

He didn’t care. Anywhere that was not this place. Somewhere not anything like this place. 

 

****** 

“Look,” the suspect, Hudson, said, “I didn’t do it, Potter.” 

Harry pressed his lips tightly together. 

Hudson shifted. “Sorry, Auror Potter,” he corrected himself. 

“There were witnesses, Mr Hudson.” 

“They’re lying.” 

Lewis looked at Harry like this was some great revelation. Harry rolled his eyes. Lewis squared his shoulders and said, “They all say you did it.” 

Hudson made a strange pleading noise. 

“I will interview them myself, Mr Hudson,” Harry promised. “Right now.” 

The suspect struggled against his bonds and pulled away from the restraining hand Lewis had on his shoulder. “Don’t believe ‘em! I swear I didn’t punch no sodding girl! I wouldn’t!” 

“Assault is a very serious offense.” Harry looked at his partner. "Keep hold of him, Auror Lewis.” 

Harry turned back to the Hog’s Head. Aberforth stood outside, leaning against the doorjamb. 

“I’m going to need those witnesses to give official statements,” Harry said, walking over. 

“Yeah, right.” 

“Yours too, Aberforth.” 

“Course.” Aberforth scratched at his beard. “That bloke’s always been a nuisance, you know. Always drunk.” 

“Everyone here is usually drunk,” Harry said.  

It was an ugly day in Hogsmeade. Grey and chilly, even being summer as it was. A mist of rain made Harry damp. His clothes pulled where they were plastered to his skin. His hair sagged unpleasantly against his skull. Harry pushed it out of his eyes. 

Inside the Hog’s Head, in a dark corner towards the back, a gaggle of older witches were consoling a blubbering mess of a woman. Harry called up all of his patience, stealing himself to the very tips of his fingers. 

He listened to their story, each twist and turn. Harry didn’t know if they were lying outright or if they were beefing up the encounter to really get Hudson in trouble, but he did know the yarn they were spinning for him was rubbish.  

Harry kept his face neutral for as long as he could, but each outlandish fabrication after another had ratcheted his brow up notch after notch, until finally it must have hit his hairline.  

Severus had always said that the one mistake people made when they lied was that they added too many details. If you keep it simple, it’s harder for someone to pick apart fact from fiction. Don’t give them anything to snag onto and pick at.  

The best lies were always simple.  

Harry blinked; he felt that tug at the back of his mind again. This time he followed it.  

 _The best lies were always simple._  

Understanding rushed at him and he staggered back a step. 

“Son of a...” he whispered. He spun on the spot, his red auror robes swirling around him as he disapparated. 

 

****** 

The sun shined brightly on Severus’ street. Harry marched out from the alley, not caring what people thought of his robes and the official bits and bobs attached to it, and walked straight up to the building door. Ignoring the legality, he used magic to unlock it. He ran up the stairs and down the hallway. He was pounding on the man’s door before he’d fully processed his realization.  

Severus opened the door, annoyed and huffing. He shot out an angry, “Potter,” as Harry pushed his way inside the flat.  

Harry pointed a finger back at Severus as the man closed the door. “You are a fucking liar.” 

Severus’ jaw clenched. He walked over to Harry, eyes sharp and searching. “And what have I supposedly lied about, Auror Potter?” 

“Five years, Severus,” Harry started and Severus had the bloody audacity to roll his eyes. “Five years. We were happy. I _know_ we were happy. I’m not fucking crazy.” 

“For Christ’s sake, Potter.” 

“No.” Harry pushed into his space. “No. Stop it.” 

Severus made a gesture of confusion and shouted, “Stop what?” 

“You weren’t just done. We weren’t just done.” 

Severus huffed and stomped into the kitchen, putting a counter between him and Harry, He leaned against it, palms flay and fingers splayed. He bowed his head. 

“I’m right.” Harry’s voice cracked. “I’m right.” 

“This is pathetic, Potter.” He looked up through his lashes. “You can’t be this desperate.” 

Harry gaped. “Desperate. You, arsehole. I’ve felt...for the last year I couldn’t-” Harry shook his head. “I’m right.” Harry moved around the counter. Severus pushed away to the far end. “Say it.” 

Severus scoffed and rounded the counter. 

“Say it. Say that I am right.” 

Severus clenched his fists and stepped back. “As usual, Potter, your bloody ego-” 

“Don’t.” Harry sneered. “Have you really regressed that far?” 

“You are wrong.” Severus said each work slowly, carefully. 

Harry stepped closer. Severus didn’t have many tells. Hardly any, thankfully, considering, but when he lied his eyes flickered more. Just a subtle twitch, as they searched the target for signs of disbelief. Harry smiled. “No. I am right.” 

Severus stepped back again. 

“Are you afraid of me, Severus?” Harry smirked. “Don’t want me to get too close?” 

Severus tilted his head. Harry stepped closer. Closer.  

Severus’ breathing kicked up.  

Harry put both hands on Severus’ chest and shoved. Severus fell back a step, eyes blazing.  

Harry shoved again. Severus hit the wall behind him.  

Harry stepped closer still. Pressed himself against Severus. Every muscle in the man’s body was rigid. 

“Say it.” 

Harry’s eyes ticked down to watch Severus’ pulse flicker against the scarred skin of his neck. He watched the man’s jaw clench. Harry could have run his nose along it by just turning his head slightly. The man smelled so familiar, like sandalwood and spice. His stomach heated and that heat raced down his thighs. 

“Say it, Severus.” 

Harry knew Severus must have felt each susurration against the sensitive skin under his ear. The muscles pressed against Harry tensed further, one last good fight, before releasing, and then Harry did run his nose along that jaw. “Say it,” he whispered to the tender spot beneath an ear lobe. 

Harry took slender wrists between his fingers, running his thumbs along the thin skin below Severus’ palms. He drew them up and pressed them beside the man’s ears. There was no resistance. This vulnerability, only shown to Harry, was prized. He leaned into the man’s space, breathing in against his neck. “We fought so hard for this.” 

Severus shivered and turned his head away, opening further, Harry applied lips and a flick of tongue to the man’s pulse point. The elicited groan sent warmth out from Harry’s core to his limbs, his fingers. 

Harry pulled back to rest his forehead to the man’s temple. “Why would you throw this away?” 

Severus’ breathing came jaggedly through his nose. 

“God, Severus, please, say it.” 

“I-” 

“No.” Harry pressed in harder. Severus’ pulse thundered under Harry’s fingers.  

“You-” 

“Better.” 

“Shut up.” Severus turned his head, forcing Harry to pull back. “You may be right.” 

Harry lifted an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. 

“It’s not so simple,” Severus said. “But I didn’t lie.” 

Nose to nose, Harry searched the face just out of focus in front of him. “Yes, you did.” 

“Not entirely. It is possible to want and not want at the same time.” 

“Okay.” Harry squeezed his eyes closed briefly. He released the man’s wrists and drew his hands down the soft fabric of Severus’ shirtsleeves before letting them fall to his sides. He unglued himself from Severus’ front and stepped back. Severus straightened from the wall and righted his clothes. “Tell me then. Tell me all of it.” 

“What is the point, Harry?” Severus said. “We are over.” 

“We don’t have to be.” 

Severus shut his eyes and sighed. 

“Stop that. We don’t.” 

“You have idealized our relationship.” 

“No, I haven’t. I know things weren’t always perfect, but we were happy.” 

“The problems were there. You willfully chose to ignore all of them.” 

“I did not,” Harry said. “I know I work too much. If it really-” 

“That is the tip of the iceberg.” He raised a hand to tick items off. “You work too much. We couldn’t so much as step out the door without the press on our heels. You are much too young for me.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry said. “That again.” 

“Yes,” Severus dropped his hand and walked to the kitchen. “That again. You should be,” Severus spun a hand in the air, “starting a family and whatever else.” 

“I thought I worked too much?” 

Severus made a face.  

“So you are allowed to just decide we are done.”  

“And you, evidently, are allowed to just decide what issues are valid and which I am hyperbolizing.” 

“No, no.” Harry shook his head. “No. Everyone agrees with me; we were great together.” 

“You’re Harry Potter, the wonderful Savior who does no wrong. Of course, they agree with you.” 

“Bollocks. Hermione doesn’t give a toss about who I am and she sees it as I do.” 

His lip curled. “Why can’t you just move on, Harry?” 

Harry grit his molars together. He put his hands on his hips. “Do you really want me to?” 

“Of course, I do.” 

“Truly, Severus?” 

“Yes.” 

“No part of you is pleased that I still want you.” 

Severus’ eyes shifted back and forth, searching for something. 

“I can’t make myself older,” Harry conceded. 

Severus leaned forward against the counter again, pressing his palms into the tile. 

“If that is really some,” Harry swallowed, licked his lips, and stepped around the counter, “some deal breaker for you.” Harry cocked a hip against the counter, facing towards Severus. “I just don’t understand.” 

Severus hung his head between his arms, his hair obscured Harry’ view of his face. Harry wanted to reach out and brush it back. A muffled, “I know,” came out of Severus. 

“Did I do something...immaturely? Act a certain way?” 

“No.” 

“Then-” 

“It was the baby.” Severus lifted his head and sighed. 

“The baby?” Harry bunched his brow. “Rose?” 

“Yes.” Severus drew the last syllable out. “I saw how you looked at her. You should have that.” 

Harry let the idea settle over him. He thought of wanting something for Severus, wanting it enough to leave him. He shook his head. “I knew you didn’t want children, Severus.” He slid closer. “I knew it early on. Ages ago.” 

“I know. And I knew you’d be too stubborn to leave.” Severus straightened, hips pressed into the counter. “You are young, eventually you will want that. I will never,” he looked seriously at Harry, “never have that desire.” 

“I know.” 

“You are too young to truly know.” 

Harry sighed. “You could give me some credit here, I think.” 

“No. I could not.” 

“I have been miserable, for a whole year, Severus.” 

Severus’ mouth ticked up quickly. “Miserable?” 

“I knew it pleased you a little.” 

“Because I am a selfish, horrible man.” 

“I don’t want a baby. I do love working too much, certainly too much to properly raise a family. Evidently, I work too much to properly maintain a relationship.” 

Severus shook his head. “One day-” 

“Sod, one day. I love you.” 

Severus wrinkled his nose. 

“I miss you.” 

Severus grunted. 

Harry slid along the counter until his front was pressed to Severus’ side. “Say you missed me.” 

Severus brushed his fingers against his lips. “This is not fixed.” He reached out and ran a hand up the front of Harry’s auror robes. His fingers lingered along Harry’s collarbone. 

“But it’s also not over,” Harry said. The hand, warm and beautiful, moved to his neck, teasing the hairline at Harry’s nape. 

“You never do as you are meant.” 

Harry tried to push closer, to move the man’s hips to his. “You like that about me.” 

“Possibly.” Severus relented. Harry shifted them about until it was him Severus had pressed against the counter. Severus’ next words were spoken against Harry’s forehead. “A bit.” 

Both hands were now cradling his head, fingers carding through his hair. Harry grabbed the lean hips in front of him and pulled them close. Severus ducked his head and Harry rubbed his nose down Severus’ before resting their foreheads together. 

Severus said, “Your uniform has too many trinkets attached.” 

“You could just take it off. Then you wouldn’t need to worry about it.” 

“I suppose I could.” 

“You suppose.” Harry grinned. 

“Or I could burn it.” 

Harry chuckled and then hummed. “I’d let you.” 

Severus started at the top, at Harry’s throat, and loosed each button down to his waist before pushing the thing off Harry’s shoulders. Harry had to step away to let it fall and decided to push Severus towards the bedroom he knew was through the door opposite.  

At the threshold, Severus dug his heels in. “Harry, you have to- You _must_ \- because I can’t...I _can’t_.” 

Harry watched the man’s lips work through the uncharacteristic stutter before shaking his head. “I want this now. I cannot, Severus, _cannot_ foresee a time I won’t want you.” 

Severus whispered, “It will only hurt worse the longer we do this.” 

“I hurt without you.” 

Harry heard Severus swallow. Harry, frankly, didn’t want to hear anymore. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Severus’, using the momentum to finish the push into the bedroom. He pushed until Severus’ knees hit the mattress, forcing him to sit down. Harry didn’t stop. He pushed Severus flat and crawled on top of him, Harry’s lips still pressed against Severus’. 

He kicked his shoes off, and felt Severus do the same. They shifted and adjusted until they were both wholly and comfortably on the bed. Harry used his tongue to deepen the kiss, Severus’ mouth was sweet and warm and wet. He pressed his hips down to make Severus groan, throw his head back, and press back up against him. 

“I’ve missed you.” Harry drew out the middle syllable out against Severus’ neck. 

Severus clutched Harry’s hips and pulled them down as he pressed his own up and up and up “Fuck, Harry.” 

Harry worried their reunion wouldn’t even see them out of their clothes. He groaned and pushed up onto his hands. Severus whimpered and then grunted his displeasure. “I don’t want to do this with all of our clothes still on. ‘d be pathetic.” 

“Hm. Yes, pathetic.” Severus’ lovely, nimble fingers breached the distance Harry had put between them and yanked Harry’s vest from where it was tucked into his work trousers. He shoved it up his chest. Harry sat back on his calves, straddling Severus’ hips, to pull it off over his head. Their arms tangled as Severus reached for Harry’s belt and Harry reached for the buttons of Severus’ shirt. Harry slid each one free, parting the shirt wide as his fingers descended.  

“Too fucking thin.” Harry bent low and kissed up one side of the man’s ribcage until he got to a pink nipple. “You need me to take care of you.”  

Severus shivered and pulled Harry’s belt free.  

Harry pulled the pebbling nipple into his mouth and teased it with the tip of his tongue. He drew back to blow a cool stream of air against it, watching it peak beautifully before moving to treat the other to the same.  

Severus growled. He wrapped his hands behind Harry’s knees and pulled. The wind punched out of Harry’s lungs as he was flipped to his back. His trousers were removed and tossed somewhere near the _fucking stolen couch_ and then Severus was on him. His hands cradled Harry’s head, his fingers twisted in Harry’s hair, pressed into his scalp, tugged gently, and set his nerves on fire.  

Harry crushed their lips together, pushing his tongue against Severus’ tongue. Harry unclenched his hands where they’d wrapped tightly around Severus’ cuffs and he ran them up the man’s arms. “You’re a brilliant fucking kisser.” 

“Then stop talking and let me do it.” Severus smirked and went back to it. 

Harry pushed the shirt off Severus’ shoulders. He reached between them to unbuckle the man’s trousers, Severus stilled his hips as Harry slowly unzipped him and pushed them off.  

Finally, skin to skin, Harry couldn’t stop the grin that interrupted the kissing, again. He ran his hands from the top of sparsely haired thighs, over a pants covered arse, up the shifting muscles of Severus’ back, and ending at the broad shoulders mantling his own. “I’ve missed you.” 

“You’ve said.” He gave up on Harry’s lips and kissed down his jawline, nipped at an ear lobe, and pressed his tongue to the pulse point on Harry’s neck. Harry couldn’t keep his hips from rutting upwards into Severus’ smooth stomach. 

“Say it back, Severus.” 

“I thought I was.” Severus continued his way down Harry’s body, stilling his hips and hooking fingers into the band of Harry’s pants. 

Harry chuckled. “This is a nice way to do it, I suppose.” 

Severus pulled Harry’s pants down to his thighs, too eager to finish taking them all the way off. Harry’s cock sprung free and was immediately wrapped in the wet warmth his tongue had so recently enjoyed. Severus’ tongue circled the head of his cock, looping back around and up to trace the delicate skin around his slit.  

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” 

Harry threw his head back into the mattress. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. He had _missed_ this. Missed being touched, the intimacy, the connection.  

Severus groaned and pulled Harry’s attention back up. He watched Severus’ hips shift against where they pressed into the mattress, his arse muscles flexing and relaxing with each movement. Severus groaned again and the vibrations raced up Harry’s spine and out through his limbs. His fingertips tingled, twitched. Harry moved his hands to the head between his thighs and did his best to stay in control, to not press up into the heat engulfing his cock, to not push that brilliant head down and force his cock deeper down that slender throat. 

Severus pulled off, using his hand to keep working Harry, and asked, “Is this how you want to come, Harry?” His voice so low and fucking sex-rough. 

“Yes.” Harry groaned. “No. Fuck, no. Not like this.” He tugged gently on the hair trapped between his fingers. “Come here.” 

Severus crawled back up and kissed Harry. Harry ran his hands down the length of Severus’ back, slipping under the waistband of his pants. He gave each arse cheek a good squeeze and pulled them apart slightly. Severus’ hips kicked forward, and he whimpered against Harry’s lips. Harry let go so he could pull the pants off entirely and toss them off the bed.   

Back in place, he reached down between them and wrapped his hand around Severus’ cock. The man hissed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and he moaned. 

“Missed the sounds you make,” Harry worked his fist. “The fucking _sounds,_ Severus.” 

Severus made more of those delightful sounds in response. His eyes opened to watch Harry, his lips parted slightly. Harry could see the pink of his tongue and needed to taste it. He pressed up and kissed those lips, dipped his tongue into Severus’ mouth and coaxed Severus’ tongue into his mouth. 

“Want to see you, watch you,” Harry said. “Like this.” 

Severus reached down, easily wrapping a hand around the both of them. Harry was grateful once again, for what must have been the millionth time, for the man’s perfect hands.  

“You’re a fucking wonder, Severus. Fuck.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk far too much during sex?” Severus’ words panted out of him and his lips twitched towards a smirk. 

Harry laughed. “Only you, you arse.” 

Severus summoned lube from somewhere in his bedroom and coated his hands and their cocks and renewed his efforts. They each became overwhelmed by the moment, their eyes meeting, their mouths capable of nothing more than exchanging hot breaths.  

This was exactly what he’d wanted, what he’d missed. Harry watched Severus and Severus looked lost, like he always did in these moments. Like he couldn’t quite understand how he got here, how they got here. Desperate and grateful and awed. Harry held him then, arms wrapped around his chest, grounding them both.  

Severus hit a rhythm that had Harry arching and moaning. His cock hardened in Severus grip and he felt his balls pull up tight. Severus’ teeth dug into his bottom lip, hiding a broken whimper. 

“Oh, god, Severus.” Harry kissed the spot where Severus was torturing his lip. “Don’t hide it. Let me hear. Let me, let me...” 

Severus’ hand stuttered as he tensed and came between them. Seeing Severus lose control did Harry in and brought on his own orgasm; his back bowed and his vision gone white. 

They shared a few more heated breaths back and forth as everything came back online. Then Severus carefully pushed himself up and over to collapse next to Harry. 

Harry lay back, catching his breath. His skin was hot and cold at once. He turned his head so he could watch Severus coming down. He loved watching everything Severus did. He ran a finger along the veins that crisscrossed the back of Severus’ hand. “I can’t believe you took the bloody couch.” 

Severus spelled them clean and Harry shivered at the rush of magic across his oversensitive skin. Severus shrugged against the sheets. “I liked the couch.” 

“I had to buy a new one.” Harry twisted up to lay on his side and look at the couch. “And you aren’t even using it.” 

Severus clicked his tongue. “Yes, I am.” He gestured lazily, but still with that annoying smooth grace. “I keep my books on it.” 

“You’re a bastard.” 

“You like it.” 

“I do.” Harry grinned over at him and launched himself off of the bed. He pulled his pants up and retrieved the fitted black trousers he’d been wearing. He pulled them on as well, hopping a bit to get both legs through. He grabbed his vest and his eyes swept the room for a pile of red robes. 

Severus rolled to his belly in order to watch Harry dash about. He had a single eyebrow raised. “I believe they are in the kitchen.” 

“Oh, of course,” Harry left the room, “right,” and came back in again, slipping his arm into a sleeve. 

“You’re leaving?” Severus pushed up on his elbows. “Now?” 

Harry buckled his wand holder back in place over his red robes. “I was in the middle of interviewing witnesses.” 

Severus scoffed ,a gusty breath blew out of him with it. “Of course, you were.” 

 

****** 

It wasn’t fixed, as Severus had rightly predicted. Harry’s quick post-sex exit to finish the Hudson case had proven that immediately. A year apart had also taken a toll and Severus had rocked the trust between them. 

Harry was bloody delighted anyway. 

He had Severus back. He had his couch back. A bit. Severus had kept the shiny, new flat. They were moving slowly, gradually retangling their lives together. 

Harry sank down on the couch, sending the books bouncing, and pulled his boots on. “You’re coming with me to Hermione’s birthday party tomorrow.” 

Severus, still lounging against the pillows in bed, sighed. “I suppose.” 

“She’s turning 26. Practically an old lady now.” 

“Shut up.” 

Harry smiled and stood. Severus’ hair was tousled and his lips swollen. Harry parted his red robes against his sides and straddled Severus hips. “I want my goodbye kiss.” 

Severus hummed and ran hands up Harry’s thighs. Harry leaned in, Severus moved those lovely fingers into Harry’s own tousled hair, and they kissed. A slow, lovely thing, Harry thought, nipping at Severus’ bottom lip before quickly dismounting. He finished fastening his robes while spinning away from the bed. 

Harry asked, “Will you be home tonight?” 

“Yes.” Severus sat up fully, evidently prepared to start his own day. “Please don’t die at work, Potter. I would like beef stroganoff for dinner.” 

Harry smiled. “I’ll do my best, dear.” 

Severus wrinkled his nose. “And those yeasty rolls.” He stood from the bed, lithe and pale, and very, very naked. 

Harry tracked the movement of each muscle as the man stretched. “Yes, must fatten you back up.”  

Severus walked to meet Harry in the doorway, scooping up a pair of pyjama bottoms on the way. “Does that mean you will make biscuits as well?” 

Harry chuckled and watched Severus pull the flannels on. “Whatever you want. Always.” 

Severus reached out and attempted to put Harry’s hair in some order. He gave up with a resigned sigh. “If only that were true.” 

Harry shoved at a freckled shoulder. “Alright.” He grabbed the shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. “I’ve got to go.” 

“Catch all the bad guys.” Severus picked a shirt up from the back of the couch, shaking it out and sniffing it. 

Harry hummed. “I’ll be sure to do it quickly so I can prepare this feast for you.” 

“Excellent.” Severus, now far too dressed, stole one more kiss before Harry did indeed, finally, leave. 

 

****** 

“Severus.” 

Harry wrapped an arm around Severus’ waist. 

“Ginevra.” Severus tipped his head towards her before sipping at his punch. 

“It’s lovely to have you back at one of our Weasley parties,” Ginny said, smiling. 

“I look forward to them once again occupying my every weekend.” Severus hummed. “Numerous as they are.” 

Ginny snorted and ran hand down her growing stomach. “Maybe if we stopped procreating we wouldn’t have to have so many birthday parties.” 

Harry shifted on his feet, but Severus’ lips twitched toward a smile. He hid it by taking another long sip from his cup. 

“I’m more than willing to stop,” Hermione added. 

“No,” Ron said, scandalized, around a mouthful of apple. “Stop saying that.” 

“Don’t.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just stop. I don’t want to fight about this on my birthday.” 

Ron scowled, but did stop. He took another bite of his apple and didn’t look happy about it. 

“I’m going to have a ton of them,” Ginny said. “I’ve been eating whatever I want. And John has been waiting on me hand and foot.” 

“Just wait until this one is keeping you up until the wee hours,” Hermione said. “Then come back and tell me how many you’re planning on.” 

Severus leaned into the arm Harry had around him. Harry rubbed his fingers against the soft fabric of the robes at Severus’ hip. Immensely grateful he could once again reach out and touch. Harry turned his head and buried his nose against Severus’ shoulder. He smelled like the smoke from his lab and the lemon of his laundry soap. 

Arthur and Hermione’s parents walked out of the door of the Burrow and their little circle expanded and the conversation shifted. They still set the table up outside, but Molly had kept Hermione’s party understated and simple. Charlie hadn’t flown in and Fleur and her kids were in France visiting family. George was knees deep in post-Hogwarts inventory and accounting paperwork, and likely wouldn’t make it until after the cake. Percy’s arrival was imminent, but he too was unaccounted for as of yet. Rose was napping inside. It was still a bit early in the evening though. 

Harry wanted to shout from the rooftops about Severus standing next to him. Everyone could obviously see him though, of course. Harry really wanted them to _see_  though. He felt like he was vibrating. He shifted impossibly closer, squeezing Severus’ hip again. 

“Thank you for coming,” Harry said into Severus’ shoulder. 

Severus floated his cup over to the table before wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder. He turned his head to Harry’s ear. “It only feels marginally awkward.” 

“More or less awkward than the first party you came to?” 

“Hm. Decidedly less.” Severus pulled away a bit. “Though I wasn’t returning with my head bowed in shame then.” 

Harry pulled his hand from around Severus’ waist and grabbed the man’s hand, entwining their fingers. “I’m just so desperately glad you returned.” 

They all sat down to a dinner of Hermione’s favorites, a spicy chicken casserole with a salad, mashed potatoes. Ron brought Rose down midway through and she smeared the gravy in her hair like pomade. Percy showed up with his wife and kids, and immediately got into a debate with Arthur and Hermione about the newest house elf regulations. Bill and Severus chose sides (Bill on his dad’s and Severus on Hermione’s) and added supporting comments here and there. 

Molly stood, looked around, and smiled in his direction. “Harry, will you help me with the cake and such?” 

Harry nodded and followed her inside. The cake was waiting on the table, a giant strawberry. 

“The cake looks wonderful, Molly.” 

“Thank you, Harry dear.” Molly glowed. 

Harry smiled and gathered plates and flatware. 

“Can I have a second?” Molly laid a hand on Harry’s forearm. “I just wanted to say I’m so glad to see Severus.” 

Harry smiled wider. “Me too.” 

“I don’t know what happened, but I always thought you were well suited and it is nice to see him back.” 

Harry smiled impossibly wider. 

Molly continued, “He needs feeding up.” 

Harry hummed and nodded. “I’ve been working on it.” 

The past month spent reunited had been blissful actually. All their parts aligning back up, making them better, stronger. Harry cooked and Severus ate and gained a half of a stone. Harry gave the man a reason to crawl into bed every night and he didn’t look so haggard. Severus made plans with Harry and so Harry left work on time most days. Severus talked about the future and his fears and Harry reassured him. Or didn’t. 

Honest was what they focused on. 

And always together. 

Harry talked about getting a cat and naming it Albus. Severus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say no. 

 

Fin. 


End file.
